


Misfeasance

by fohatic



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon parallels, F/M, Fix-It, Plot Twists, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fohatic/pseuds/fohatic
Summary: "You know, there's only one problem with you: you're perfect."In the wake of his suspension from the FBI, Dale Cooper has a difficult time adjusting to civilian life. Audrey Horne sees an opportunity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The italicized text that immediately follows is quoted directly from the series; after this, the story departs from canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 7/5/17

  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** Agent Cooper, it's showtime. You've heard the charges. What do you wish to present as your defense?_  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** I have no defense. I am completely confident in the rightness of my actions. Some of it occurred outside of Bureau guidelines, and I will pay the price for that. But I am innocent of any criminal wrongdoing. If they wish to charge me, I will defend myself in a court of law._  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** Dale. There's a right way and a wrong way to do this. And the first thing we expect is for a Bureau man to stand up for himself. A man who can't — who doesn't even try — ...well, he may be packing **feathers** where his **spine** is supposed to be._  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** Roger. I know the moves I'm supposed to make. And I know the board._  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** So?_  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. And I've started to focus out beyond the edge of the board. On a bigger game._  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** What game?_  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** ...The sound wind makes through the pines. The sentience of animals. What we fear in the dark and what lies beyond the darkness._  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** What the hell are you talking about?_  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** I'm talking about seeing beyond fear, Roger. About looking at the world with love._  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** They're liable to extradite you for murder and drug trafficking._  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** These are things I cannot control._  
  
_**FBI Agent Roger Hardy:** (after a pause) The suspension will remain in force. The next move is up to the Canadian government, and the DEA investigation which begins today. (pause) You've cracked a big case. You've been under a lot of pressure. I may recommend... a full psychological work-up. _  
  
_**Special Agent Dale Cooper:** (unperturbed) Thanks for your candor, Roger. So long, fellas. _

_(as he rises to exit the room, Cooper takes one last look at his badge and gun)._

_~End Scene~_

* * *

 

“Diane, this is the last tape I’ll be sending you for the foreseeable future. By now, I’m sure you’re aware of the allegations that have been directed at me for reasons I’m not fully apprised of. This isn’t the first time a Federal Agent has been placed under such unwarranted scrutiny, and we can’t be surprised that this is happening to me now. Whoever is behind these drug charges clearly wants to make trouble for me, and while they have succeeded at stirring matters up with the Bureau, I don’t intend to grant them the satisfaction of shaking my spirits.”  
  
Dale paused for a moment to regard the clothing hanging in his small closet, his fingers ghosting over the fine threads of his spare suits before settling on the rougher weave of his casual woolen overcoat. He lifted the garment off the rod with an air of satisfaction.  
  
“I’ve mentioned taking some time off to you, Diane, and it seems that the universe has provided an opportunity to make the concept more than theoretical. My Spring Break in Twin Peaks has come early, and I mean to make the most of it. You needn’t fear about your own position, though, Diane—as far as I’m concerned, you’re just as essential to me as ever... but since I’m going to take this opportunity to reflect on all that has transpired and attempt to master the art of receptivity, you won’t be hearing from me for a while. I’ve spoken with Cindy in HR and she agrees that you’re overdue for some vacation time of your own. That’s _paid_ leave, Diane. Use it well; you deserve it. Signing off for now: Dale Cooper, civilian.”  
  
With a firm click of the “stop” button on his tape recorder, Dale cemented his status in his own mind. He set the familiar device beside the wooden lamp on his dresser and smiled at how out of place the thing looked beside all the rustic furnishings: the unusual tableau of the regional-design lamp, decorative copper tea pot and carved miniature totem pole flanking his sleek little black tape recorder. It looked sort of like a portrait of himself, the FBI agent from Philadelphia in his sleek black suit standing out like a sore thumb amid the quaint and charming scenery of Twin Peaks. Despite the contrast, he didn’t feel like such an outsider anymore, though. He felt as if he’d somehow managed to blend in, another eccentric in a crowd of truly eclectic folks. If Special Agent Cooper could find such a ready welcome in this place, then surely Dale Cooper, suspended-FBI agent-and-recuperating-civilian wouldn’t have any trouble at all.  
  
As he shrugged out of his suit jacket and began loosening his tie, Dale tried to ignore the faint sensation of panic stirring at the bottom of his belly and focused on what he was going to do next. He didn’t need a plan, he reminded himself. He’d been meticulously planning every move he made for far too long... in the end, it wasn’t planning that solved Laura Palmer’s murder; it wasn’t deductive reasoning or cold logic that helped him find BOB. There were other methods to consider; other forces at play that were demanding his attention. Call it intuition, call it magic... mystical spirits, cosmic energy... emanations of the Universal Logos via the Fohatic principle... call it whatever you will, it was time to surrender to the unknown. To go with the flow. To be spontaneous.  
  
There was that sickly knotting again in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t ignore it this time. _What was the matter with him? Why should it be so difficult to just relax into a carefree mode of living for a while? To accept whatever comes his way and react accordingly? To be open to any and all possibilities? He hadn’t had these reservations when he’d applied these methods to the investigation... why was it so hard to apply them to his own life? Were the stakes any higher?_  
  
With slight annoyance, he tossed his tie aside and made quick work of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, pulling a fresh-smelling flannel shirt out of his lower dresser drawer with his free hand. It shouldn’t be so difficult to just relax for a change. He simply wasn’t used to the idea. He’d been working the same case for so long that its demands were embedded into his biology. Just the sound of a phone ringing sent a jolt of heightened awareness through his entire body. There had been a killer at large, and every last part of Special Agent Cooper had been determined to catch him. It sometimes felt as if his entire life had been leading to this single-minded pursuit; as if everything he’d ever done had been preparing him in some way—however small—for confronting the great evil that now had a name: BOB. In losing Caroline, he’d learned a hard lesson in what it took to be a truly capable Special Agent. Personal inclinations could not—would not—take precedence over the job at hand. His life was not entirely his own. He was on this Earth to be more than himself; to fill a role that transcended the whims of the ego. He loved his job and the sense of purpose that it gave him, but he wasn’t sure that this sense was owed entirely to the exigencies of the Bureau. Maybe there was more to it than that; maybe there was something driving him deep down that the Bureau only facilitated. After all, Leland had been named and BOB had departed, but the anticipated sense of completion following his apprehension hadn’t fully concretized. It still felt as though this business was somehow unfinished.  
  
Exhaling a short sigh of frustration, Dale pulled the soft flannel shirt over his head and faced his reflection in the bathroom mirror. This couldn’t be that hard. Surely he’d faced greater challenges than this. For the time being, it was in his best interest to try and distance himself from all the concerns that had plagued him over the last couple of weeks and attain some perspective. As he ran a hand through his mussed hair, he thought about all the things he’d wanted to do if he’d actually had the time. Maybe he’d try fishing again... he had found it to be an excellent method of relaxation, up until the point where his fishing partner had vanished in a mysterious flash of bright light in the middle of the dark woods.    
  
_Hmm. Perhaps Twin Peaks wouldn’t provide the most conducive atmosphere for a relaxing vacation, after all..._  
  
Dale frowned at his expression, considering the futility of this endeavor. At any rate, he already had a perfectly reasonable hotel room at his disposal, a fully-operational rental car parked outside, and knew exactly where to go to find a truly great slice of pie and a fine cup of coffee. That thought made him smile.  
  
“One step at a time,” he reminded himself before reaching for his overcoat and pocketing his keys. When he reflexively went for his badge and gun holster, it took a beat before he remembered what had transpired. He shook the shadowy thought from his mind, replacing it with a nearly palpable vision of Norma’s cherry pie. _Next stop: the Double R Diner. After that... who knows?_  
  
As he left his room and locked the door behind him, Dale determinedly suppressed his lingering professional anxiety and the discomfort associated with his new, uncertain sense of identity, replacing it with an only slightly forced optimism. He tried to relax his stance as he strode down the hallway toward the staircase, practicing what he imagined to be his “civilian’s gait.” It wasn’t the stride of a man with a loaded weapon strapped to his side, burdened by great responsibilities; this, he hoped, was the stride of a man with everywhere to go and nothing to lose. A confident, happy-go-lucky sort of fellow who was ready for anything. _Open to the universe. A self-contained, but approachable gentleman... an honorary local... no, an accidental tourist... no... an intentional... wanderer..... a seeker.... a—_  
  
“Agent Cooper?”  
  
Dale’s stride faltered as he stepped onto the landing, unaccountably embarrassed that he was encountering the young vixen just then.  
  
“Oh, hello, Audrey...”  
  
Her smile was as disarming as ever, her eyes seeming to laugh at him despite that ever-present, charming self-consciousness.  
  
“You’re not in your suit,” she observed.  
  
“Neither are you,” he retorted, hoping it didn’t come out as defensive as it felt. “You’re out of uniform,” he added, more gently.  
  
“Yeah, my shift just ended. I’m on break until 5:00, so I thought I’d head down to the Double R for an early lunch. I didn’t realize what an appetite I’d be working up by covering so much ground!”  
  
“Welcome to the working world,” Dale smiled. “You’ll be addicted to coffee before you know it.”  
  
Audrey’s face faltered slightly at the mention of addiction, and Dale immediately regretted his choice of words.  
  
“Um, I didn’t mean to–”  
  
“It’s all right, Agent Cooper,” Audrey insisted, “you don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”  
  
“No, you’re made of stronger stuff than that,” Dale replied, his voice gruff with earnestness.  
  
Eager to change the subject, Audrey asked, “So what’s with the outfit? Are you off duty or something?”  
  
Dale hesitated, somehow reluctant to admit his reduced status to this particular individual. “...It’s a long story.” When Audrey looked at him curiously, he added, “But, yes: today, I’m just plain old Dale Cooper, visitor to Twin Peaks.”  
  
“You’re not that old, and you’re anything but plain.” Audrey joked, attempting to cover her her overt flirtation with a subtler, “And hey, if you’re just a visitor today, maybe you need some Hospitality Services to help you make your stay as comfortable and pleasant as you deserve.”  
  
“That’s a nice pitch,” Dale chuckled, “but I thought you were off duty as well.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m offering you a premium deal, only available to our most special customers...”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Uh huh. The offer is, you give me a ride into town, and I’ll point out all of the local sights along the way -- your own personal tour guide!”

For the life of him, Dale couldn’t summon a good enough reason to refuse.  
  
“Well as it happens, I was just heading to the Double R myself.”  
  
Audrey looked surprised, apparently expecting to hear some excuse. “You were?”  
  
“Yep. And I’d be delighted to take you up on that special offer,” he graciously acceded.  
  
“Great!” Audrey beamed, looking like she’d just won the top prize in a game Dale didn’t wholly understand. _He was just giving her a ride into town, wasn’t he?_ Still, the idea that the pleasure of his company could be so dearly appreciated filled him with a warmth that was pervasive enough to take the chill off the anxieties that still lurked deep inside.  
  
“Come on, Miss Horne — your chariot awaits,” Dale gestured, guiding her to accompany him with a brief hand at her back. Audrey fell into step beside him with a sweetly shy smile, and Dale allowed himself to be momentarily distracted from his professional concerns by the alluring scent of the young woman beside him. His temporary vacation was off to a fine start. _A slice of pie and some friendly conversation with a beautiful girl... surely there was no harm in that?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 7/9/17

As the pair made their way toward the hotel parking lot, Dale watched a bellboy take obvious notice of Audrey when they approached the walkway. The bellboy stood up a little straighter and discreetly wiped his palms against his waist as he appeared to straighten his jacket. Audrey seemed intent on ignoring the young man, determinedly avoiding eye contact.  
  
“Shall I call a driver for you, Miss?” the young man asked, his blue eyes briefly darting toward Dale in apparent confusion.  
  
Audrey huffed out an annoyed response: “No, you _shan’t_ , Harvey — I already have a ride, thank you very much.”  
  
Dale raised his eyebrows at the exchange, watching the sandy-haired boy’s lips thin as he nodded a polite acknowledgement while Audrey picked up her pace and strutted past  him with a sharpness to her posture that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Dale had to expand his steps to catch up with her, finding her slightly flustered as he fell back in line beside her.  
  
“What was that all about?” he mildly inquired.  
  
“Ugh. Just Harvey. He bugs me,” Audrey replied.  
  
“What did he mean about calling a driver?” Dale asked, a little bit teasingly. “I thought you needed a ride into town?”  
  
“I do,” Audrey insisted, “I just get tired of being chauffeured around all the time in the back of a fancy town car, you know what I mean?”  
  
“Not really,” Dale smirked.  
  
 “Being the local ‘rich girl’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Audrey confided. “Sometimes I just want to feel like a normal person.”  
  
Dale swallowed, glancing down at the ground as he took in her meaning. “Yeah, maybe I do know a little about that,” he said quietly. Audrey regarded him in thoughtful silence. “Ah, here we are,” Dale announced as they approached the beige Dodge Diplomat that had been assigned to him at the rental facility. “It’s no fancy town car, but it’ll take you where you want to go.”  
  
If Audrey was unimpressed with the nondescript vehicle, she didn’t show it.  
  
“Allow me,” Dale offered, unlocking the car on the passenger side, then reaching over to open the door to the back seat. Audrey looked at him uncertainly for a moment before she realized he was teasing her.  
  
“Oh, you’re a riot,” she drawled sarcastically as Dale laughed at his little joke. He closed the back seat door and opened the front passenger door for her instead.  
  
“Buckle up,” Dale instructed as she settled into the seat, closing the door neatly behind her.  
  
Audrey watched as Dale trotted around to the driver’s side of the car, fondly noting the spring in his step. Maybe he was enjoying this as much as she was. As he slipped into his seat and reached for his seatbelt, she noticed him watching for her to do the same. She obeyed, deliberately taking the buckle into her limp right hand and flaunting her delicate wrist in the process, then carefully adjusting the strap across her body before clicking it into place. Her eyes glanced up at Dale at the sound of the ‘click,’ and she flashed him a sly little smile that he couldn’t immediately interpret.  
  
“Okay,” Dale breathed, swallowing quickly and looking mildly stunned as he fit the key into the ignition, “off we go!”  
  
Audrey’s eyes gleamed with excitement and she turned to look out the window to hide her not-so-private glee, her tongue pressing into her back teeth as her smile widened. Special Agent Dale Cooper was escorting her into town, and she was pretty sure that he was at least a little bit into her. Maybe a lot into her. Either way, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out how he felt about her so long as she could spend enough time with him to get some answers... and if there was one thing she was really good at, it was knowing when a man wanted her.  
  
This particular man hadn’t been as easy to read as all the rest, and that fact had bothered her and thrilled her in equal measure. Her usual seductive overtures didn’t exactly fall flat with this guy, but they didn’t have the same easy power that she was normally able to wield with such irreverence. It unnerved her to think that the handsome Special Agent might be immune to her charms, or at least able to resist them by sheer force of will. She was certain that it wasn’t because he preferred men to women, or that he didn’t find her particularly attractive. He was just... _stronger... better_... than all the men that had come before him; all the would-be lovers that she’d rejected in eventual disinterest. Special Agent Dale Cooper was _different_ , and she was absolutely captivated by that increasingly obvious fact.  
  
Still, there was a deeply rooted part of her that compulsively sought to tear down that facade of differentiation and expose the raw truth that must be hidden somewhere beneath; to find the cracks in that perfect veneer and feel out a breaking point. Not because she wanted to hurt anybody, really... (although there was a certain ‘naughty’ pleasure in it, she didn’t consider herself particularly malicious in the way that she teased and pursued men — as unconsciously vindictive as the compulsion might be, she wasn’t self-aware enough to recognize it yet) ...she just wanted to know the extent of her own feminine power, and to learn what it was capable of. Who better to test its limits than the strong-willed, imposing young Federal Agent beside her? _She liked him. He liked her. She’d be doing him a favor... wouldn’t she?_  
  
“Okay, let’s put those Tour Guide skills to the test,” Dale teased, reaching across Audrey to point at the looming, minty green trees growing along the roadside. “What kind of trees are those?”  
  
Audrey pouted her lip as she glanced out at the trees with disinterest. “No clue.” When Dale feigned disappointment, she added, “I didn’t say I was a botanist.”  
  
“I’m getting the impression that I may have been ripped off,” Dale mused.  
  
“Hey, if it’s trees you want, I can tell you where to find them,” Audrey joked.  
  
Audrey watched as Dale just shook his head with a laugh, admiring the shape of his face in profile as he stared ahead at the winding road. He looked different out of his black suit... softer... less intimidating. He gripped the steering wheel lightly, his hands strong but gentle. Audrey remembered those hands cradling her face after her rescue; remembered stroking them fervently in her semi-delirium, needing the reassurance that he was really there; that he had come for her; that her prayers had been answered.  
  
Dale felt her eyes on him. “How about that bridge up ahead,” he asked. “Where does that lead?”  
  
Reluctantly, Audrey shifted her attention onto the old, wood-planked bridge with rusted iron guard rails cris-crossed into the support beams. “That?” she asked, somewhat distractedly, “Oh, that’s Miner’s Creek crossing.”  
  
“But where does it go?” Dale pressed, slowing down to check out the poorly-maintained landmark.  
  
“If you’re so curious, why don’t you cross it and find out?” Audrey teased.  
  
Though his initial reaction was to stick to the scheduled plan, something in Audrey’s tone reminded Dale of the intentions he’d articulated to himself before setting out that morning: _be spontaneous_.  
  
“You don’t mind?” Dale asked, “How hungry are you?”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Audrey laughed, surprised that he was taking her suggestion seriously. “That’s the deal, isn’t it? You drive, I guide?”  
  
“Remind me to thank Hospitality for their outstanding service,” Dale grinned.  
  
As the car turned off of the main highway, Audrey felt a warm anticipation stirring inside as she began to recognize the spirit of adventure in the man next to her. _This could be fun_...  
  
The bridge was narrow and rickety, creaking and rumbling as Dale carefully drove over it. Audrey laughed a little at the expression on his face.  
  
“Relax, people have been driving much bigger vehicles over this thing with a lot less caution for years and years, and it hasn’t collapsed,” Audrey assured him.  
  
“ _Yet._..” Dale amended, his eyes widening when the left side of the car rolled off a beam laid higher than the others with a stomach-dropping thud.  
  
“Do you want to hold my hand, Agent Cooper?” Audrey teased.  
  
“Thank you, Audrey, but it looks like we’ve survived Miner’s Creek crossing,” Dale retorted as they rolled onto the dirt road. Audrey just shook her head with amusement, leaning back into her seat.  
  
The road winded along beside the creek for a stretch, with the land on the right side of the road obscured by a dark curtain of trees. Then the two paths diverged, the creek meandering down the valley to the left while the bumpy road became engulfed between a looming forest that blocked out most of the daylight. Dale glanced at Audrey with an expression that indicated he was enjoying himself immensely. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Audrey marveled at how being with the man transformed an otherwise typical country drive into an entirely new experience.  
  
After about a mile the forest began to taper off, opening into overgrown pastures and small clearings. Wildflowers had started cropping up here and there, and blackberry vines crawled over every mangled fence post and rotting stump.  
  
“This place is gorgeous,” Dale remarked, taking in the surroundings as if he’d never stepped foot outside a city or suburb before.  
  
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Audrey agreed, looking out at the landscape with new eyes.  
  
“Oooooh, check this out,” Dale intoned, slowing down to a crawl as a dilapidated, old Victorian two-story came into view. The house stood out in a wide, flat clearing, sparsely surrounded by gnarled, barren deciduous trees. The blue-grey paint was severely worn down, with rotting wood exposed in patches and vines creeping through the cracks of broken, boarded-up windows.  
  
“Who do you suppose lived there?” Dale asked, not expecting Audrey to know the answer.  
  
“That’s the Witch House,” Audrey replied as the car slowed to a stop.  
  
Dale turned his head back toward her, intrigued.  
  
“Legend has it that an old witch lived there a long time ago with her sister, and the two of them would perform rituals in the woods out back, running around naked in the moonlight and stuff. Then the sister died, and the witch never left her house after that—wouldn’t let anyone come in, either. All sorts of spooky stuff started happening around the property. Then when she died, nobody knew about it for a long time until someone went in and found her body all decomposed next to another one that was all shriveled up... they say that she had dug her sister up from the grave and kept the body in the house with her for years.”  
  
“No...”  
  
“Well, that is what they say...” Audrey maintained. “And now the land is supposed to be cursed or something. Nobody ever goes out there except dumb kids with beer and lighter fluid, for the fire pit behind the house.”  
  
“How would you know that?” Dale inquired.  
  
Audrey smirked at him and replied, “Maybe I was a dumb kid too, once upon a time.”  
  
“Ah ha. So you’re telling me that I’m riding around with a potentially cursed, former juvenile delinquent.”  
  
“I only went out there a couple times,” Audrey contended, “and to tell you the truth, I never really liked beer. Or the boys who’d bring us there.”  
  
“‘Us’?” Dale asked.  
  
“Me and Laura Palmer, actually,” Audrey supplied. When Dale looked surprised, she told him, “Yeah, I know. We were kind of friends for a little while during our freshman year.”  
  
“‘Kind of’?”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t exactly one of Laura’s ‘normal’ friends,” Audrey confided, with apparent discomfort. “Those girls were all too uptight to go out drinking in the woods with upperclassmen. So she’d ask me to go with her, because the guys liked it when she brought another girl along, and... I guess I didn’t really have any other friends, so I went along with it.”  
  
“Why didn’t you have any other friends?” Dale asked softly.  
  
“I just didn’t get along with other girls,” Audrey shrugged. “I mean, for one thing I was the ‘rich girl,’ and they probably resented me for that. It didn’t help that my parents sent me to school in a chauffeured town car. And... I was also an ‘early bloomer,’ you know? The other kids thought that because I had boobs and hips before they did, that must make me a slut or something.” Audrey noticed Dale averted his eyes at the mention of ‘boobs and hips,’ and took secret satisfaction in that. “Plus, I didn’t think the same way as the other girls or act like they did, so everyone thought I was kind of weird. But instead of trying to be more like them, I just threw it back in everybody’s face and became the rich bitch, boyfriend-stealing weirdo they already thought I was. I owned it. Now I’m not sure if I ever was anything else.”  
  
“Well, I like you just as you are,” Dale offered after a short silence. “The way I see it, you’re a bright, inquisitive, lovely young woman with a kind heart and a fearless spirit. Even if it does get you into trouble sometimes.”  
  
“You’re sweet,” Audrey smiled.  
  
“I mean every word.”  
  
“I mean it, too.” Audrey persisted, “You’re a genuinely nice guy, Agent Cooper. One of the good ones. Until I met you, I thought your type was as rare as a unicorn, and just as unlikely to show up in a place like Twin Peaks.”  
  
“Come on, there’s some great guys in Twin Peaks!” Dale countered, trying not to let her compliment go to his head, “I’ve met plenty of them.”  
  
“Not young, super-charming, crazy-handsome ones!”  
  
“Audrey...” Dale complained, realizing he’d walked right into this and that it was time to shift the conversation to safer ground. He still felt obliged to add, “I’m not perfect. Nobody is.”  
  
“Of course you are, and that’s exactly your problem.”  
  
“If you say so,” Dale sighed, pressing his foot down on the accelerator.  
  
“You are,” Audrey insisted, rolling her head around to gaze out the passenger window as the car picked up its leisurely pace. “You make me _sick_ , Agent Cooper.”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“Yeah,” she drawled, tracing a heart shape with her finger on the window glass, “heart-sick and queasy with unrequited longing.”  
  
“Audrey, we’ve talked about this...”  
  
Audrey swung her head around to regard Dale through a lowered gaze. “I’m just telling it like it is... honesty, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?” Idly toying with an air vent, she continued, “I thought friends were supposed to be honest with each other... we are friends, aren’t we?”  
  
“A ‘friend’ wouldn’t profess an unrequited love for the other,” Dale murmured, his hands flexing tensely on the steering wheel.  
  
“What would they do, then? Keep it to themselves? Keep secrets?” Audrey taunted, flicking the vent open and then shutting it with a sharp _snap_.  
  
“Audrey, Audrey, Audrey...” Dale sighed, staring at the road ahead with a lost expression.  
  
They passed more brush-thick fields in silence for a couple of minutes, the air between them grown suddenly heavy. Then, at a curve in the road where an overgrown path led to a fenced off piece of land, Audrey sat up in her seat.  
  
“Hey, pull over here,” she told him.  
  
“What is it?” Dale asked, pressing on the break pedal and veering to the side of the road.  
  
“Do you want to see something neat?” she offered, looking hopeful but prepared for disappointment.  
  
As wary of her as he felt after what she’d said to him moments ago, Dale did, in truth, want to see something neat. “Sure.”  
  
“Okay,” Audrey smiled, “follow me.”  
  
The pair unbuckled their seat belts and stepped out into brisk, late-morning air full of the sounds of chirping insects and birds, and the scent of damp earth, greenery and conifer sap.  
  
Dale took a moment to stretch and breathe deeply while Audrey made her way toward a wooden gate barring access to a private road overgrown with years of disuse. By the time he’d caught up to her, she had already climbed to the top of the gate, straddling it with her left knee brushing against a “NO TRESPASSING” sign.  
  
“I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there,” Dale worried.  
  
“It’s okay, I’ve done this a thousand times!” Audrey assured him, “Come on!”  
  
While not entirely convinced, Dale made quick work of climbing over the barrier, offering a hand to Audrey as she hopped down to join him on the other side.  
  
“Where are we going?” Dale asked as Audrey began to push past a hawthorn bush.  
  
“You’ll see,” Audrey replied with an enigmatic smile, looking over her shoulder and beckoning Dale to follow.  
  
The two of them stepped gingerly over brush and various debris as they cut through a barely-visible trail leading along the old road, surrounded by a tangle of trees and bushes. At one point they had to climb over a fallen trunk, both managing to deftly maneuver their way back to some semblance of a path.  
  
“If I’d known where you were taking me, I might’ve brought along a machete,” Dale joked as he ducked under low-hanging branches, swatting leaves aside.  
  
“We’re almost there,” Audrey promised.  
  
After another few minutes of slow, careful progress, Dale and Audrey emerged from the thicket and stopped before an open field of tall grass glowing with indirect sunlight, behind which stood the skeletal remains of a beautifully constructed old dairy barn. The front half of the barn had long since fallen apart and rotten away, but the back end was still standing tall and radiant as sunlight filtered through the gaps in the beams.  
  
Awestruck, Dale slowly approached the old ruin, taking in the unlikely beauty of the hidden treasure.  
  
“Pretty neat, huh?” Audrey beamed, pleased to see that Dale was appreciating this old childhood haunt. “I used to come here with my cousins when they’d visit during the summer... we’d pretend that we were outlaws and this was our secret hideout.”  
  
“Your parents let you play in there?” Dale asked, wondering how structurally sound the remaining beams were.  
  
“My cousins are a little older than me,” Audrey explained, “and nobody really asked where we went as long as we made it home before dark. We’d ride bikes out here and spend hours and hours playing make believe.”  
  
Dale smiled fondly at that, trying to picture what Audrey might’ve looked like as a little girl.  
  
“You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” Audrey grinned, walking backwards in the grass as she tempted Dale to follow with an outreached hand.  
  
“I’m very intrigued,” Dale smiled, taking the offered hand and letting Audrey pull him toward a rickety old ladder that was nailed into the floor of the hay loft. When he realized what she had in mind, he stopped short. “Whoa, you’re not thinking about climbing up there, are you?”  
  
“Don’t be a chicken!” Audrey taunted, releasing his hand to start climbing the old ladder.  
  
“Audrey, that’s got to be more than ten feet off the ground!” Dale gasped, “What if the wood collapses?”  
  
“Trust me!” Audrey insisted, “It’s fine! I’ve been up here loads of times!”  
  
Dale swallowed thickly as Audrey clambered up the rungs, the old wood rattling with every shift of her body. His mouth hung open and his eyes flashed nervously as he  watched her climb onto the loft platform and walk along creaking beams to the center of the loft, hanging onto the thick pole of a timber beam and letting it support her weight as she stretched her free arm out into the open space, dreamily swinging around it as she pivoted on the balls of her feet.  
  
Recognizing that he couldn’t stand there staring at her forever, Dale reluctantly followed her up the shaky old ladder. When he reached the top, he let out a short sigh of relief as he realized that the loft was actually sturdier than it appeared from beneath.  
  
“See?” Audrey pressed, directing Dale’s attention out at the view from the open end of the barn. “Isn’t this worth it?”  
  
Dale looked out over the tops of the trees they’d just walked through and further beyond, his perception warping and readjusting to the expanse of ever-deepening woodland—stark contrasts of shadows and light—all surreally framed by the broken but somehow beautifully symmetrical edges of the decaying structure.  
  
“Wow,” Dale breathed.  
  
“Yeah,” Audrey agreed. When she moved to sit at the edge of the loft, her legs dangling over the side, Dale sat beside her. For a time they were silent, simply enjoying the sight in front of them.  
  
“It really makes you feel tiny, doesn’t it?” Dale asked, his tone contemplative, “Those trees that just go on and on? All that space?”  
  
Audrey thought for a moment before replying, “Yeah, but also kind of powerful, being able to move through all of it so quickly in our cars, you know? The Great Northern is waaaaaaayyyyy over there,” she indicated, pointing to a tree-covered summit in the distance, “but we were just standing there not very long ago. And now we’re all the way out here, marveling about how tiny we are.”  
  
“It wasn’t that easy getting here,” Dale remarked, recalling the short but crowded hike through the thicket below. “In fact, I think I’ve got bark in my boots.”  
  
“I said we moved through it quickly, not easily,” Audrey corrected. “Besides, easy is boring. If you could see this view from your car seat, you probably wouldn’t be half as impressed by it. There has to be at least a little challenge in the pursuit of anything worthwhile, Agent Cooper.”  
  
Dale looked the girl next to him over appreciatively before grinning, “Audrey, you’re all right.” He collected his thoughts for a moment before quoting:  
  
“ _May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds._ ”  
  
“Who said that?” Audrey asked.  
  
“Edward Abbey,” Dale smiled.  
  
“Sounds like a smart guy,” Audrey replied.  
  
As they stared out at the landscape, cool air drifted over them and made Audrey shiver. She hadn’t worn an overcoat like Dale, and her pale green cashmere sweater, though pretty, wasn’t entirely sufficient in the breezy loft.  
  
“Are you cold?” Dale asked softly, glancing down at her rigid muscles.  
  
“A little, but I can tough it out,” Audrey asserted, not wanting to leave just yet.  
  
“Here,” Dale offered, shrugging out of his overcoat and reaching over to drape it across her shoulders.  
  
“Oh, thanks,” Audrey blinked, touched by the thoughtful gesture. She already knew that the Special Agent was a consummate gentleman, but his consideration toward her still caught her by surprise. The coat was warm from the older man’s body heat, and feeling it surround her made her dizzy with the intimacy of it. It even smelled like him.  
  
Dale felt his body heat evaporate into the cool air, and savored the refreshment it brought him. He took another deep, invigorating breath, then exhaled slowly as a serenity washed over him. It was nice, being here, with nothing to examine, no evidence to collect, no murder to solve. He liked being with Audrey; liked the playfulness, the conviviality between them. He even liked the intimacy that they’d fallen into so easily, even if he did have to be careful to maintain proper boundaries. Her infatuation with him was endearing, but it did make him nervous. This was hardly the first time that Special Agent Dale Cooper had managed to ensnare a woman’s heart without any effort. He loved being a ladies man: self-assured in the presence of women, confident of his virile attractiveness. A noteworthy difference between Audrey Horne and all the others that he’d entertained harmless flirtations with was that Audrey Horne had an appeal of her own; one that matched his. She was beautiful. Stunning. She was also confident in that appeal, and aware enough of how to use it to make her more than a little threatening. It was one thing to flirt with a pretty secretary who giggled every time you addressed her and blushed every time you looked into her eyes; it was another thing entirely to flirt with a knock-out and then find her waiting naked in your hotel bed. Audrey was dangerous.  
  
“We should probably be heading back,” Dale murmured, trying very hard not to think about the image of Audrey dressed in nothing but his bed sheets.  
  
“Okay,” Audrey sighed, dangling her legs back and forth as she peered over the edge of the loft.  
  
“Thanks for showing me this place, Audrey,” Dale smiled. When she looked up at him with a small smile of her own, she saw something hidden behind his eyes that made her curious but cautious.  
  
“Anytime,” she smiled back. A look was exchanged between them that neither one could make sense of.  
  
As Dale moved to stand, Audrey stopped him with a gentle hand over his.  
  
“Hey, do you have anything sharp on you?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Like a pocket knife?” she asked.  
  
With a frown of confusion, Dale fished through his hip pocket and produced his hotel key. “Will this work?”  
  
“Yeah, I think so,” Audrey smiled, taking the proffered key and examining the floor space between them. When she’d settled on the right spot, she began to carve into the wood with the tip of the brass key. Dale watched her carve, leaning over to try to make out the shapes. With some effort, the design soon became clear:  
  
                                                                                                     AH + DC

  
  
After admiring her handiwork for a moment, Audrey pressed the hotel key back into Dale’s palm. “Okay, now we can go.”  
  
Dale smiled to himself as Audrey stood up, idly tracing the impression with his index finger. As threads of sentimentality tugged at his heart, he reiterated the truth he’d already been made aware of: _Audrey Horne is dangerous_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating of this work is going to change to "Explicit" soon -- now that I have a better idea of where this is headed, you can count on it getting very steamy (eventually).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 7/12/17

Audrey noticed that Dale seemed more withdrawn on the drive back toward the town. His posture had become more rigid. His smile was a little tense. He mostly kept his eyes on the road, and when he did glance her way, eye contact was brief and skittish. She recognized the body language with secret resignation and tried not to let her disappointment show, acting as if nothing had changed between them so as to put the nervous man at ease. The last thing she wanted to do was push him further away by demanding more from him than he was presently prepared to give. Instead, she recalled the small victories she’d achieved that morning and added them to her growing list of all the ways in which she was methodically wearing away at the stubborn principles, old-fashioned notions and whatever other invisible armor was surrounding Dale Cooper’s precious heart.

* * *

  
  
The Double R diner was much busier than usual with the influx of guests in town for the Milford wedding. All of the booths and most of the counter seats were filled by patrons, some dining, some eagerly awaiting their food. Dale noticed that Norma was the only gal on the floor, and figured she was short-staffed that afternoon.  
  
“We should’ve made reservations,” Dale mused.  
  
“Looks like a booth is opening up over there,” Audrey replied, nudging Dale toward a booth that a man was standing over while counting out a tip. He didn’t have to turn around for Dale to recognize him as Special Agent Roger Hardy.  
  
Steeling himself, Dale approached the booth with Audrey. Roger turned, looking up from the newspaper he’d been folding. “Cooper,” he acknowledged, nodding solemnly when he saw Dale.  
  
“Hello Roger,” Dale greeted the man, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I see you’ve taken my advice about the pie,” he quipped, pointing his chin toward the pie-stained plate on the table.  
  
“Yes. It was very good,” Roger mumbled, eyeing Audrey curiously as she slid into the opposite booth seat, Dale’s overcoat looking a few sizes too large on her small frame.  
  
“Allow me to introduce Audrey Horne, a good friend of mine,” Dale offered, gulping as he became aware of the awkwardness of this particular introduction. “Audrey, this is Special Agent Roger Hardy, Internal Affairs.”  
  
It didn’t take more than a moment for Roger to put the pieces together.  
  
“Audrey Horne?” Roger asked in a flat affect, looking at Dale over the tops of his glasses, “This is the girl from the Canadian operation?”  
  
“Yes, Roger,” Dale explained, jaw tense, “she works up at the Great Northern, and we were both headed down here for lunch. I offered her a ride.”  
  
Audrey looked between the two men skeptically, wondering why their conversation felt so strained. _Was it really so shocking that Dale would take her out to lunch? And what was an agent from ‘Internal Affairs’ doing at the Double R Diner?_  
  
“I see,” Roger replied, though his tone indicated that Dale’s explanation was insufficient. “Well, then I’ll leave you to it,” Roger offered, excusing himself. Nodding at Audrey, he murmured, “Miss Horne,” before he turned to leave, fixing a disapproving look on Dale as he passed by.  
  
“Afternoon, Roger,” Dale weakly supplied, his mouth flattening into a thin line as he waved the other man off.  
  
Dale glanced at Audrey briefly before moving to take Roger’s vacated seat. He could tell that she was curious about the exchange that just took place, but was not inclined to explain. Fortunately, a bus boy approached to clear the table before she could ask any questions. Dale took the brief opportunity to take a calming breath. _I am fine. I haven’t done anything wrong. Whether I manage to clear my name or not, I am content in the knowledge that I have done the right thing regardless of the outcome._  
  
“What was that all about?” Audrey asked, not wasting any time.  
  
“Roger is here on Agency business,” Dale offered, as if that was all the explanation necessary.  
  
“He wasn’t very friendly,” Audrey mentioned.  
  
“Roger’s not really known for his chummy personality,” Dale deflected.  
  
Before Audrey could ask anything else, the pair was approached by a smiling Deputy Brennan.  
  
“Agent Cooper!” Andy greeted, “I thought I heard your voice!”  
  
“Hello Andy!” Dale beamed, grateful for the interruption.  
  
“And Audrey Horne!” Andy smiled, “Are you and Agent Cooper having lunch together?”  
  
“Yeah,” Audrey laughed, “I guess we are!”  
  
“That’s nice,” Andy replied, “I’m here with Lucy’s... friend, Dick, and his friend, Nicky. Nicky is an orphan who Dick met through a program called Happy Helping Hands. I’m treating them to malteds, but Dick is just having coffee.”  
  
“That’s very considerate of you, Andy,” Dale smiled, “I’m sure Nicky appreciates the gesture.”  
  
“Agent Cooper,” Andy cooed, suddenly grown serious, “I’m so sorry to hear that you were suspended from the FBI... I told Sheriff Truman that there must be some kind of mistake, since you’re such a great law man, and he said that it was a mistake and that it’s a serious one.”  
  
“Thank you, Andy,” Cooper intoned, glancing up at Audrey and noticing the concern on her face. _Great._  
  
“Does this mean that you’re not a Special Agent anymore?” Andy asked in a sad tone.  
  
“Not at the moment.”  
  
“Gee. That’s really terrible, Agent— I mean, Mr. Cooper,” Andy corrected.  
  
“Just call me ‘Dale,’ Andy,” Dale offered.  
  
“Okay. Well, I hope you enjoy your lunch, Dale,” Andy smiled.  
  
“You too, Andy. I’ll see you later.”  
  
“Okay. Goodbye,” he said, smiling and waving at Audrey.  
  
“Bye,” Audrey waved back.  
  
When they were finally alone, a momentary silence passed before Dale met eyes with Audrey, prompting her to ask, “You’ve been suspended from the FBI???”  
  
“Yes,” Dale admitted.  
  
“When?”  
  
“Yesterday.”  
  
Audrey considered this a moment before asking, softly, “Why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
Dale also took a moment to consider his response. “I... don’t want you to worry about it. I’m going to take care of it,” he declared, unconvincingly.  
  
“So that’s what that guy Roger was doing here? ‘Internal Affairs’?”  
  
“He’s heading the investigation.”  
  
“What ‘investigation’?” Audrey asked.  
  
Dale sighed, realizing that she wasn’t about to let this go. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, Dale looked at Audrey squarely before he started to explain in earnest. “Audrey, first I want you to know that I don’t regret a single move that I’ve made in this matter. If anything, I wish I had acted sooner — but based on the information that I received and the timing of its reception, I firmly believed that I made the best and only choice available to me. I acted not only out of concern for you, but out of my duty as an agent to protect the innocent and serve in the interest of justice.”  
  
“This is about what happened to me?” Audrey interjected, a stricken look on her face.  
  
“This wasn’t your fault,” Dale insisted, “Not at all. In fact, crossing into Canada’s jurisdiction was minor compared to the trumped-up drug charges. Audrey, someone is trying to frame me. That’s what this is really about.”  
  
Audrey was at a loss, not knowing how to respond or in what order.  
  
“Listen,” Dale half-whispered, leaning forward. “I don’t want you to worry about any of this, okay? I’m going to be fine. You’re safe. That’s the important thing.”  
  
Audrey was looking at him with eyes that were both apologetic and affectionate. Before she could respond, Norma approached the table with a couple of menus and fresh silverware.  
  
“Sorry for the wait,” Norma apologized, “I’m flying solo today.”  
  
“No problem at all,” Dale replied, sitting back in his seat.  
  
“What can I get you two?” Norma asked, pen ready.  
  
“I’ll have a turkey sandwich,” Audrey replied, still looking a little dazed by what she’d just learned.  
  
“And I’ll have a cup of coffee, black, with two slices of pie, one cherry, surprise me with the other—”  
  
“I hate to spoil the surprise, but cherry is all we have left,” Norma interjected. “All my apple pies sold out an hour ago and I just handed out the last couple slices of three-berry.”  
  
“Make that two slices of cherry pie, Norma,” Dale smiled, “and I’ll have a turkey sandwich as well.”  
  
“Got it. Anything to drink, Audrey?”  
  
“Sure, I’ll have a Roy Rogers.”  
  
“Coming right up.”  
  
“Thanks,” Audrey replied, managing to smile at the waitress before she hurried off with the new order.  
  
Audrey looked back at Dale, who offered her a hopeful smile. She returned it, though she still didn’t feel much better.  
  
“So can I still call you Agent Cooper?” Audrey asked, fidgeting with her butter knife.  
  
Dale looked at her strangely before he replied in a slightly hushed voice, “If you like... or you could just call me Dale.”  
  
“Dale?” Audrey smiled.  
  
“That’s my name.”  
  
“I know it is...” another strange moment passed between them. “Okay, then. ‘Dale,’ sometimes.”  
  
Dale knew she was flirting with him. He hadn’t meant to invite her to flirt with him... had he? _After all, why shouldn’t she call him by his first name by now? Why did his name sound so much more significant coming from her lips than from Andy Brennan’s?_  
  
Audrey was certain that he was looking at her lips, now. Words held power; names most of all. She’d wanted to call him by his first name before, but had been unsure whether it would be welcome. Now that he’d invited her to use his first name, she meant to use it well.  
  
“So what are they charging you with, exactly?” Audrey asked, watching Dale’s eyes widen slightly as he woke up from wherever his mind had drifted off to.  
  
“It’s pretty complicated,” Dale told her, his eyes squinting as he considered the various charges and how to explain them. “Aside from the accusation that I stole drugs—which is completely ludicrous—most of the charges are based on a very skewed version of what actually happened that night. The only thing I’m actually guilty of is misfeasance, and I expected that I'd have to account for myself in that regard — just not to this extent.”  
  
“‘Misfeasance’?” Audrey repeated, “What’s that?”  
  
“It means ‘the unlawful expression of an act that is in and of itself good and lawful.’ Basically, doing something right, but in the wrong way. When I found out that you were being held at One Eyed Jack’s, I went outside of bureau guidelines to bring you home.”  
  
“Why?” Audrey pressed, though she already knew the answer. She just wanted to hear him say it. “Why didn’t you follow procedure?”  
  
“Because being a good agent doesn’t always mean following the rules exactly as they’re written,” Dale defended. “Sometimes you have to get creative in order to get the right result.”  
  
“Is that the only reason?” Audrey asked, picking at the edge of the table with her fingernail. “Getting results?”  
  
Dale smiled softly, knowing what she was getting at. “Bureaucracy is meaningless when someone you care about is in danger.”  
  
Audrey broke into a small smile at that, not meeting Dale’s eyes as he watched her affectionately from the other side of the booth.  
  
“Do you have any idea who’s trying to frame you?” Audrey continued after the bus boy brought their coffee and cola.  
  
“I don’t know for sure, but I have several theories,” Dale replied.  
  
“Could it be someone from One Eyed Jack’s?” Audrey posited, “To get back at you for foiling their hostage scheme?”  
  
“I haven’t ruled out the possibility that it could be related,” Dale nodded, sipping at his coffee.  
  
“Is there any way I can help?” Audrey implored, “Maybe if you had someone, a witness, backing up your version of what really happened...”  
  
“Audrey,” Dale countered, “I appreciate the offer, but I doubt that your testimony would be of any value, considering the condition you were in.” When he saw how that reminder stung, Dale quickly amended, “Besides, I had Deputy Hawk and Sheriff Truman with me. They’ll both back my version of events.”  
  
“Why aren’t they being suspended if they were involved?” Audrey pouted.  
  
“Because it wasn’t their operation; I was responsible. And I’m the only one under investigation by the DEA.”  
  
“What will happen if they convict you?” Audrey asked, looking seriously worried about the prospect.  
  
Dale leaned back in his seat, staring at his cup of coffee with an expression that broke Audrey’s heart to witness. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” Dale sighed, “but I could be imprisoned if the charges stick.”  
  
Audrey gasped. “They can’t do that!”  
  
“I’m afraid that they can. The law is very particular about what happens to convicted criminals.”  
  
“But you’re not a criminal,” Audrey protested. “You’re the complete opposite of a criminal. If you’re put in prison, then I’ll lose all faith I ever had in the criminal justice system.”  
  
“Thank you, Audrey, but you don’t need to go that far.”  
  
“I mean it: I’ll start a riot! I’ll write petitions! I’ll stand outside the prison every day with a big sign that says ‘FREE DALE COOPER’ in block letters... I’ll go on a hunger strike!”  
  
“Not before you’ve finished this turkey sandwich, I hope,” Norma joked, appearing with a tray of food. “Why the sudden interest in civil disobedience, Audrey?”  
  
“Norma, do you think that Agent Cooper looks like a criminal to you?” Audrey challenged, suddenly incensed.  
  
Dale glanced at the waitress apologetically as she gave him an appraising look. “Seems pretty harmless to me,” Norma replied.  
  
“Does he look like someone who belongs in prison?” Audrey continued.  
  
“No, he doesn’t. And I should know _that_ type,” Norma argued.  
  
“Exactly. So if he was put in jail for something he didn’t even do, would you join a riot in protest?” Audrey pressed.  
  
“Hmm, I guess that would depend...” Norma mused. “Would it be a peaceful protest?”  
  
“Well, I’d be pretty angry, but I probably wouldn’t be destroying private property or anything like that,” Audrey conceded.  
  
“Then count me in,” Norma smiled.  
  
“Thanks for the support,” Dale smiled back. As Norma excused herself to help her other customers, Dale turned back to Audrey with a reproachful look. “Please tell me you’re not going to start recruiting rioters on my behalf before I’ve even gone to trial.”  
  
“I’m very motivated,” Audrey emphasized.  
  
“I can tell.”  
  
As the pair ate their sandwiches, the conversation shifted to lighter subject matter. Audrey learned that Dale didn’t like pickles, and was happy to take his off of him. Dale learned that Audrey could tie the stem of her maraschino cherry with her tongue. He tried not to dwell on it.  
  
When they’d finished their sandwiches, Dale started on his pie. He only hesitated for a moment before pushing his second slice across the table to Audrey.  
  
“That’s for me?” she asked, surprised.  
  
“I think anyone willing to go on a hunger strike on my behalf deserves a slice of pie at the very least,” Dale insisted.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Audrey smirked, “And what would a girl get for actually exonerating you?”  
  
“The whole pie,” Dale quipped over a mouthful of pie, ignoring the innuendo.  
  
Audrey laughed, thoughtfully scooping some pie onto her fork. He thought she was joking, but she actually had every intention of trying to find a way to help her Special Agent restore his good name. After all, he’d lost it protecting _her_. She didn’t take that lightly.  
  
They’d nearly finished their pie when Andy reappeared, looking distressed.  
  
“What is it Andy?” Dale asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.  
  
“Agent— I mean, Dale, I just got off the radio with Sheriff Truman. He wants to see you right away. There’s been another message from Windom Earle.”

Dale’s eyes widened. He set down his fork and leaned across the table to address Audrey. “I’m sorry Audrey, but I’ve got to leave.”  
  
“Is everything okay?”  
  
“Nothing to worry about,” Dale lied. “But I have to get to the Sheriff’s Station right away. Andy,” Dale asked, turning toward the deputy, “would you be able to drive Audrey back to the Great Northern?”  
  
“I sure can,” Andy offered.  
  
“Sorry to cut the meal short,” Dale apologized again, counting out more than enough cash to cover both meals.  
  
“It’s okay, I should be getting back anyway to help out with the wedding preparations.”  
  
“Wedding?” Dale asked, distracted.  
  
“That’s right, the Milford wedding,” Andy supplied. “Lucy is up there now helping with the decorations.”  
  
“Yeah, and you can expect the reception to be a doozy,” Audrey grinned. “Milford weddings always are.”  
  
“You’ll be at the reception later, won’t you?” Andy asked, “I’m going to be wearing a suit,” he smiled.  
  
“I didn’t bring any formal wear with me,” Dale realized.  
  
“Hey, I’m sure we can dig something up for you,” Audrey offered, “We’ve got spare jackets set aside for the country club events. I’ll have one delivered to your room! You have to be there,” Audrey encouraged. “I’ll be saving a dance for you, Dale.”  
  
“It’s a deal, Audrey,” Dale smiled, heartened by the way she made his name sound.  
  
Andy’s eyes shifted between the pair and a goofy smile broke out on his face. “Good! Then I’ll see you at the party, Dale!”  
  
“See you later, Andy,” Dale agreed. “Bye, Audrey — thanks for the diversion. I had a really wonderful time today.”  
  
“Me too,” Audrey replied, with a smile that softened her eyes. “Don’t forget about that dance.”  
  
“Not a chance,” Dale promised.

Audrey watched Dale leave with a pang of regret, wishing they’d had more time together. She’d been looking forward to another drive with him; another chance to study his face and memorize its perfect contours; another opportunity to sit beside him and enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. She suddenly remembered that she was wearing his coat.  
  
“Oh! I’ll be right back,” Audrey told Andy, hurrying after Dale.  
  
She caught up with him just outside his rental car. “You forgot this,” she reminded him, slightly breathless.  
  
Dale watched her slip out of the coat. “You can hold on to it if you like,” he offered, somehow sorry to see it off of her.  
  
“No, you take it; I’ll be fine now. But thanks,” Audrey smiled.  
  
“You sure?” Dale asked as she reached out to hand it back to him.  
  
“Uh huh,” she replied. As he reached to take it from her, their fingers brushed — Audrey could’ve sworn that he allowed his fingers to gently caress hers as his hand withdrew, but it was so subtle that she wondered whether he’d done it on purpose.  
  
“Okay, see you later,” Dale smiled, pulling open his car door and slipping inside to start the ignition.  
  
Audrey stood aside as he drove out of the parking lot and took off down the highway, watching him go. Her heart felt like it was being pulled along with him.  
  
As soon as she was out of sight, Dale picked up the coat and held it to his face, breathing deeply. There it was: that elusive, alluring scent. _Stop it._ Dale set the coat back down on the passenger seat and shook his head. _No. He didn’t miss her already._ He’d enjoyed a pleasant interaction with her that day. They’d grown a bit closer, as people tend to do when they spend time together. That was all. _So what if he was attracted to her? She was an attractive person... it was inevitable. It didn’t mean anything._  
  
He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like a good 'slow burn' as much as I do, because I plan on taking this romance on a pretty winding road! Also note: in this AU, Windom Earle hasn't been distracting Dale with a chess game — he's got something else up his sleeve. Thank you for all your comments and kudos, any/all feedback is very appreciated! (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 7/21/17
> 
> Sorry this took so long to post, but it was, well... long. It was also a beast to edit, so if you see any errors that I missed, please feel free to point them out to me!

  
By the time Dale had returned to the Great Northern, the wedding ceremony was already underway. With everyone gathered in the dining hall, the hotel felt strangely empty once Dale had passed through the lobby; the only inhabitants to be found were the occasional staff member, but even these were few and far between as most were concentrated on last-minute preparations for the upcoming reception. Meanwhile, the majority of guests had gone down to the wedding, which Dale gratefully hadn’t been obliged to attend due to already limited seating capacity. He was glad for the solitude. After the meeting he’d had with Sheriff Truman that afternoon, Dale wanted more than anything to have some time to think everything over by himself and take a long, hot shower. He felt saturated in doubts and uncertainties, weighed down by an invisible grime that plagued him every time he came into contact with Windom Earle, however remotely. This latest communication from Earle had been especially troubling, and had left Dale mired in a confusion that wouldn’t be easy to shake.  
  
It didn’t help that the would-be Agent had lost access to Bureau resources after his suspension, and was basically acting in a consulting capacity with the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Department. _He didn’t even have a gun!_ There was a madman on the loose who was clearly bent on wreaking havoc on Dale’s life, and Dale had no way of defending himself in the event of an ambush. Not that he was expecting a show of violence from Earle (at least not at such an early stage in the ‘game’), but the possibility of a live encounter with his former partner left Dale distinctly uneasy.  
  
As he unlocked his hotel room door, Dale took precautions to enter the room carefully. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he rounded a corner and was surprised by a dark form hovering in front of his bathroom: someone had hung a double breasted jacket from the door frame. _Audrey_. There was a note pinned to the collar in her familiar, slanted handwriting:  
  
_Dale,_  
_Hope this works for you. I think I got the size right._  
_See you on the dance floor._  
_Love,_  
_Audrey_  
  
Dale reached up and removed the hanger from its perch, his heart still thumping from the surprise. He removed the note with a smile and set it on his bedside table, then tried on the jacket in front of his mirror. It was a little large, and it wasn’t exactly his style, but it would do.  
  
Regarding his reflection, Dale noticed the haunted expression about his eyes that always followed news of Windom Earle. He wondered if it was apparent to anyone else. Sometimes he felt that just by thinking about his former partner, he was aging prematurely. It was more than just his guilt over what had happened with Caroline and how things had gone so badly between Earle and himself; more than the weight of Caroline’s loss, which was quite significant. There was a certain kind of fear associated with Windom Earle that went beyond the man’s madness and violent instability; something deep down that howled at the very mention of his name — low and unsteady, like a faraway siren echoing through a canyon, calling out a warning that was too distant to comprehend. It had the ring of fatefulness to it, and it filled him with the inexplicable urge to flee.  
  
Not that there was anywhere to go. Dale knew that he had to face the man sooner or later. He’d helped release that particular demon into the world through his misguided love for a married woman—however pure and true that love had been—and through his severe misjudgment of his former partner’s character. It was his duty to see this through to the end, whatever that end might turn out to be. He only wished that he’d had more time. It felt as thought time were accelerating rapidly ever since Earle’s reintroduction into his life, and that an invisible hourglass was hovering above him somewhere in hyperspace, some part of him slipping away with every falling grain of metaphysical sand.  
  
Dale turned on the tap and filled his cupped palms with cold water, then leaned over the sink to splash his face. He left the tap running as beads of water fell off him into the basin, disappearing into the swirling flow that quietly drained away. Looking back into the mirror at his dripping reflection, Dale repeated the first riddle aloud:  
  
_“Two hosts, two halves_  
_Find me where we meet”_  
  
Windom Earle had now left two messages for Dale, both in the form of terse, cryptic riddles delivered via letter mail to the Sheriff’s Station. The first had arrived three days ago and had been postmarked from Galena, Illinois; the second arrived this morning, postmarked from Lexington, Nebraska. He was getting closer.  
  
Sighing, Dale turned off the tap and reached for a towel to pat his face dry. Fresh riddles from Windom Earle were the last thing he needed right now. He recalled the latest one as he lumbered toward his bed, dropping his tired body down on top of the covers as he settled in for a short nap.  
  
_She must bend back to see me_  
_He can only see me in reverse_  
  
As unlikely as the idea was, Dale couldn’t help but wonder whether this second riddle had anything to do with the dream he’d had about Laura Palmer in the strange, red-curtained room. When he’d asked the woman who looked exactly like Laura whether she was actually Laura Palmer, she’d replied: _“I feel like I know her, but sometimes my arms bend back.”_  
  
Eerily, dream-Laura’s words seemed to echo in Earle’s latest riddle. _She must bend back to see me_. Was Laura Palmer the ‘she’ that the riddle was referring to? If that was the case, then who—or what—was the ‘me’ that she was bending back to see?  
  
Dale’s head swam with the possibilities, so varied and indistinct that he grew weary trying to contemplate all of it. He wished he could believe that there was no substance to it; that Earle was just toying with him, teasing him with his madness. But Dale knew the man better than that. He knew what Earle was capable of, which made solving his riddles all the more urgent.  
  
As he adjusted a pillow underneath his head, Dale turned his thoughts instead to the other events that had transpired that afternoon. Seeing Dennis again— or _Denise_ , rather— had been a much more eventful reunion than he’d bargained for... _In heels! And that wig! It was a wig, wasn’t it? Surely he hadn’t grown out that much hair already?_ Dale wondered if it would be rude to ask him about it. _Or_ _her?_ Dale wondered which pronoun was appropriate, now. He decided that, at least, would be an appropriate question.  
  
Wig or no wig, he was confident that ‘Denise’ was still a reliable agent and would be able to see past the obvious set-up. He was glad that... she?... had been the one sent to investigate the drug charges. At least some things were still working out in his favor.  
  
Dale’s thoughts drifted further back to the conversation he’d had with Hawk earlier that day about the place known as “The Black Lodge.” He’d been immediately drawn to the subject, wanting to immerse himself as deeply into the lore as possible. Somehow, he knew that this was important. Major Briggs’ description of “The White Lodge” had been intriguing, but learning about its counterpart from Hawk had awakened something in Dale’s consciousness that he felt had been lurking beneath its surface for some time now. It felt like an answer, _but to what?_  
  
Hawk’s description of “The Dweller on the Threshold” had a particularly striking resonance with him. Some part of him knew—with a kind of knowing that can’t be explained—that he would stand on that very threshold someday; that he would confront The Black Lodge, maybe sometime soon. The thought filled him with a kind of nervous excitement. As attracted as he was to the mystical and the unknown, the concept of The Black Lodge felt simultaneously ominous and inviting. He was called to it in the same way that the moth follows the flame, beguiled by the wonder enshrouding his potential doom. He just hoped that when he did confront it, he would have the requisite courage to make it out with his soul intact.

* * *

  
  
It was past 8 o’clock now and Audrey still hadn’t seen any sign of Dale at the reception. She’d already danced with nine people who weren’t him and was about to dance with a tenth, if the way Bobby Briggs was looking at her was any indication. She wondered if she should phone his room and check on him... _he did say he was going to be there, didn’t he?_  
  
_No. Play it cool._ She reminded herself, _let him come to you_.  
  
Bobby Briggs was heading her way, now. Audrey pretended not to notice, leaning against the wall and casting a bored glance around the room while she swirled the syrupy grenadine of her Shirley Temple with her straw. When several beats passed and Bobby still hadn’t made his move, she turned around in confusion and spotted him standing in the entryway with her father. She huffed out a small, bitter laugh at that.  
  
Her father looked terrible. He still hadn’t shaved, and hadn’t even bothered to comb his hair properly. At least he’d had the decency to put on a fresh suit, though the arrangement of his tie was lacking precision. Bobby was pitching something to him and he was nodding with feigned patience, looking over and around the younger man for someone apparently more worthy of his time. Spotting his target, he cut Bobby short with a firm hand, excused himself brusquely and strode off. Audrey laughed at the expression on Bobby’s face. He caught her laughing at him, and his offended look easily transformed into a sarcastic smirk as he swaggered over to meet her.  
  
“Still hustling, Bobby? You know this is a wedding, right?” Audrey quipped.  
  
“Ha, ha.” Bobby muttered, slumping against the wall beside her. “Your dad is one tough nut to crack, Audrey Horne.”  
  
“He’s a nut, alright,” Audrey remarked. “Look at him. He’s a complete mess.”  
  
“Yeah... well... it must be hard, living on the top,” Bobby joked.  
  
“I’m not sure he’s on top of anything right now...” Audrey mused.  
  
“Aww sure he is,” Bobby assured her, “he just needs a little help to sort things out. Luckily, he’s got me.”  
  
“You?” Audrey doubted.  
  
“Yeah, me,” Bobby insisted. “I’m going to be indispensable to him, he just doesn’t realize it... _yet_.”  
  
“Is that what you’re doing over here?” Audrey joked, “You want me to set up another meeting for you with my father?”  
  
“Nah, he knows where to find me,” Bobby replied, feigning nonchalance. “I was actually... kind of hoping... you might want to dance?” He shrugged, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor.  
  
“Gee, what girl could refuse such a charming offer?” Audrey teased.  
  
“If it’s charm you want, then baby—” the young man declared, pushing off the wall with an exaggerated flourish and offering a formal bow, “—you’ve got it. Could I have the pleasure of this dance?”  
  
“Why, Bobby Briggs,” Audrey mock-gasped, accepting his outstretched hand, “I never knew you had it in you!”  
  
“Then you don’t know that much,” Bobby boasted, his smile stretching as he pulled his attractive classmate toward the dance floor.  
  
“Wait,” Audrey said, holding up her drink with her free hand. Bobby took it from her, eyebrows jumping mischievously, and set it in front of a tall woman seated at the bar.  
  
“Here,” Bobby offered, “on the house!”  
  
“Thanks,” Denise quipped, “but that’s not what I ordered.”  
  
Denise turned to find that the brash young man couldn’t care less, and had trotted off onto the dance floor with an alarmingly beautiful young woman.  
  
“ _Men_ ,” Denise sighed.  
  
Denise took another look around the room, wondering when Cooper was going to show up. He’d already missed out on the bouquet toss, to Denise’s great disappointment. She was sure he would’ve gotten a kick out of seeing her reach over the heads of all the other women and snatch the flying floral arrangement with perfect ease, betraying the varsity wide-receiver she’d been in a previous life. She’d held on to the bouquet as a souvenir to prove it, if she ever got the chance to tell him the story.  
  
_Oh, Coop_ , Denise thought, _you poor, handsome sonofabitch_ — _what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into_. Denise liked the man, always had. When she’d heard the charges that he was facing, she’d laughed aloud at the ridiculous notion that Dale Cooper would be stealing cocaine. But then again, she’d been in the DEA long enough to know that people do surprising things all the time, often for reasons that aren’t immediately apparent. If Coop had stolen the coke, then surely it must have been for some reason other than to snort it. Whatever the case, she intended to find out the truth.  
  
“Coop!” she shouted when the man in question finally appeared, looking slightly disoriented as he stared out at the large crowd. He smiled broadly when he spotted Denise, and moved to join her at the bar. “What the hell are you wearing?”  
  
“Hey, that’s my line,” Dale joked.  
  
“Seriously, where did you get that jacket?” Denise pressed, clearly unimpressed.  
  
“It was loaned to me,” Dale explained, looking down at the somewhat ill-fitting garment with a moue of embarrassment. “If I’d known I’d be attending a wedding reception, I would’ve packed something appropriate.”  
  
“Well, never mind,” Denise assured him, “with a face that handsome, nobody’s going to notice your outfit anyway.”  
  
“You noticed it,” Dale countered.  
  
“Yeah, but I’ve got an eye for detail,” Denise smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Speaking of which, I’ve noticed some irregularities in the case against you.”  
  
“I was counting on it,” Dale sighed, taking a seat beside her. “Dennis, I need your help.”  
  
“ _Denise_ ,” she softly corrected.  
  
“Oh! Sorry,” Dale cringed, embarrassed by his blunder, “Denise. By the way, do you mind if I ask you about that?”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“Well, _what happened?”_  
  
“Not at all, I like talking about it, actually...”  
  
Dale listened avidly to Denise’s tale of self-awakening, surprised to find that the explanation was so much simpler than he was expecting. It was strange to think about how little people really know each other, let alone themselves. Dale couldn’t imagine what it would be like to suddenly realize that, deep down, he wasn’t actually the person he always thought he was, but was someone else entirely, just waiting to be discovered. It actually sounded pretty scary to him. Suddenly an involuntary shiver wracked through him.  
  
“Geeze, that bad?” Denise asked, surprised by the unexpected physical reaction.  
  
“No, no, that wasn’t about you,” Dale insisted, “Just a stray thought, I guess; that, or someone just walked over my grave...”  
  
“So you’re not uncomfortable with this?” Denise asked, gesturing to herself.  
  
“Not at all,” Dale smiled, “I think it’s pretty incredible, actually. I admire your ability to really know yourself, and to live your truth. That’s a lot more than most people are capable of.”  
  
“I’ll drink to that,” Denise smiled.  
  
“What’s that you’re drinking? A Shirley Temple?” Dale asked, pointing at the abandoned drink beside her.  
  
“Actually, I ordered a martini twenty minutes ago but I think the bartender got distracted,” Denise frowned, nodding toward the other end of the bar where a young man in a suit and bow tie was leaning across the counter and chatting up a pretty blonde. “The Shirley Temple was an unsolicited gift from Smiley McGee over there,” she explained, pointing at Bobby.  
  
Dale looked over and saw who Denise was referring to, and who he was dancing with. His heart did something funny when he spotted Audrey, smiling and laughing as Bobby spun her around, leading her across the floor like a man possessed. He recognized the look that Bobby was bestowing on his gorgeous dance partner, and didn’t like it. Not from Bobby Briggs. _Not Audrey._  
  
“What’s the matter, Coop?” Denise asked, “You look like you need this more than I do,” she joked, sliding the sweet beverage over toward Dale. “Go ahead, the cherry’s all yours.”  
  
“How about we make those martinis happen, instead,” Dale offered, pushing off his bar stool to have a word with the absent bartender.  
  
Denise smirked as she watched Dale assert himself, gratified not to have to do it herself. Ever since her transition into womanhood, Denise had found that there was a certain pleasure in having men offer to perform tasks that you weren’t inclined to initiate.  _If he’s offering, far be it from me to decline_...  
  
“Two martinis, coming right up,” Dale smiled, retaking his seat beside Denise. “I hope you like them dry.”  
  
“Like my wit?” Denise smirked, “Absolutely. You’re a prince.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
“So are you going to ask me about my bouquet?” Denise prompted, holding up the flowers with a limp grip.  
  
“You caught it, I’m guessing?” Dale laughed.  
  
“You bet your ass I did. You missed it, Coop: all those ladies reaching out for it like their lives depended on it... they never saw me coming.”  
  
“They never had a chance!” Dale laughed.  
  
“Nope. I did have an unfair advantage, of course. I doubt any of them were ever varsity wide-receivers.”  
  
“Doubtful,” Dale agreed.  
  
“Two dry martinis!” The bartender announced, placing the drinks on the counter. “So sorry about the wait, ma’am.”  
  
“Just keep these coming and I’ll forget all about it,” Denise promised.  
  
“You got it!”  
  
Dale and Denise picked up their glasses and clinked the rims before taking long sips of the strong drinks.  
  
“Damn,” Dale coughed, “I think the kid completely forgot the vermouth.”  
  
“Nah, it’s in there,” Denise confirmed, “but that _is_ a _dry_ martini.”  
  
Dale looked out at the dance floor again as he went in for another sip, watching Audrey and Bobby, who were still going at it. He didn’t know which was more disturbing: the way Bobby was looking at Audrey, or the way she seemed to like it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to have a good time, or even that she was enjoying the company of a guy closer to her in age. _It’s just that it’s Bobby Briggs_ , he told himself.  
  
“There’s that look again,” Denise noticed, nudging Dale. “Who’s the girl?”  
  
“Huh?” Dale asked, blinking in confusion.  
  
“That girl you’re watching,” Denise clarified, “the pretty one.”  
  
“Oh, that’s my friend, Audrey,” Dale murmured, clearing his voice.  
  
“Your friend Audrey, huh?” Denise repeated, covering her smirk with another sip of her drink.  
  
Dale sighed. “Denise, I guess I should tell you that Audrey’s the person I crossed into Canada to rescue.”  
  
“That’s the hostage?” Denise asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wow, Coop... I guess that explains why you were so gung-ho about rescuing her...”  
  
“How do you mean?” Dale asked, pretending not to understand.  
  
“ _She’s gorgeous_ ,” Denise teased, swatting Dale’s arm. “Now I understand why you took such a major risk to get her back.”  
  
“She was totally innocent,” Dale argued, trying not to sound too defensive. “Her kidnappers sent a video that showed them injecting her with heroin... heroin, Denise — into the arm of an eighteen year-old girl with no history of drug abuse, and they were doing it because they wanted to lure me out so they could kill me. They asked for me, personally, to deliver the ransom money. What does that sound like, to you?”  
  
“Sounds like they had it in for you.”  
  
“Exactly. And now somebody is claiming that when I went up there, I stole drugs.”  
  
“Actually, Coop, it gets worse...” Denise cringed.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I found cocaine residue in your car during the sweep this morning. My guess is that it’s going to match the lot stolen from the Mountie.”  
  
Dale shook his head in disbelief. “This cannot appear straight to you,” he appealed.  
  
“Sure it looks like a frame, Coop... but I’m going to need more than your opinion to make that stick.”  
  
“Do you think you can help me prove my innocence?” Dale asked bluntly.  
  
“Well, that’s getting into a delicate area...” Denise demurred, playing with the toothpick spearing her olive, “...but on the other hand, I have been trying recently to get more in touch with my feelings...”  
  
“Does that mean you’ll help?” Dale pressed, looking hopeful.  
  
“I’ll see what I can do,” Denise promised.  
  
“Denise, you’re all right,” Dale smiled.  
  
“Now, tell me more about the girl,” Denise smirked, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs to face the dance floor. “How do you know her? I’m assuming you knew who she was before she was taken hostage...”  
  
Dale took another sip of his martini. “Yeah, she works here at the hotel... or, now she does. She didn’t, then. Her father owns the place.”  
  
“Rich _and_ beautiful,” Denise teased. “Was she involved in the Laura Palmer case?”  
  
“She went to school with Laura, but beyond that there was little connection. Well, except that her father also owns One Eye’d Jack’s... the Canadian casino and brothel where she was being held captive. Laura was also connected to that place.”  
  
“Her father sounds like a powerful figure,” Denise deduced.  
  
“His influence is far-reaching,” Dale agreed.  
  
“So... rich, beautiful, and _dangerous_ ,” Denise added, counting off Audrey’s characteristics on her fingers. “Sounds like a heady mix, my friend.”  
  
“There’s nothing going on between me and Audrey,” Dale insisted. “We’re just friends. She’s a nice girl, smart, fun to be around.”  
  
“If you’re trying to convince me that you aren’t into her, it’s not working,” Denise joked. “Uh oh,” she murmured, her eyes shifting between Dale, who was hunched over at the counter, and Audrey, who had just spotted Dale across the room. “She’s looking this way. Maybe she knows we’re talking about her.”  
  
Dale looked up and over, locking eyes with Audrey. She was looking right at him searchingly, a smile creeping over her face and her dance slowing to a halt as they regarded each other across the short distance. Bobby’s hand was still at her waist, trying to nudge her attention back to him.  
  
“Uh oh...” Denise repeated, smirking knowingly as she glanced between Dale and Audrey.  
  
Gulping, Dale lifted a hand in a little wave, trying to return the smile as naturally as he could manage. He watched, both with secret satisfaction and a small amount of dread as Audrey excused herself from Bobby’s embrace. Bobby looked momentarily put out, but was able to redirect his attention elsewhere with his usual insouciance.  
  
“And here she comes...” Denise murmured, taking another sip of her martini. She was clearly enjoying this.  
  
“Hi,” Audrey greeted, glancing briefly at Denise before focusing her attention on Dale.  
  
“Hello...” Denise smiled.  
  
“Evening, Audrey,” Dale smiled, gripping his knees as he turned fully to face her.  
  
“I almost thought you weren’t going to show up,” Audrey told Dale.  
  
“Looks like you weren’t lacking in dance partners,” Dale noted.  
  
Audrey’s smile faltered briefly. “Yeah, well, Bobby can be pretty persuasive,” she shrugged.  
  
“I didn’t realize you two were so close,” Dale replied, reaching behind him for his martini.  
  
“Me and Bobby?” Audrey scoffed, “I wouldn’t say that...”  
  
As Dale just studied Audrey over the rim of his tilted martini glass and took another long swig, Denise decided it was an appropriate moment to interject.  
  
“Yes, well, I’m Denise,” she introduced, reaching out a polite hand. “You must be Audrey... I’ve heard so much about you.”  
  
“You have?” Audrey asked, shaking the hand of the strange woman sitting beside Dale.  
  
“Yes, our mutual friend here was just telling me that not only are you a very lovely young woman, but that you’re also... how did you put it, Coop? Smart, sweet, and ‘fun to be around’?”  
  
Audrey looked at Dale with a curious smile. “You said that?”  
  
“I don’t know why that would surprise you,” Dale shrugged. “I told you as much in my car, earlier.” He felt a vague sense that he’d said too much, but the vodka was dulling his inhibitions.  
  
“Oh?” Denise prodded, suggestively inquiring, “Did you two go out for a drive somewhere? There must be some enchanting roads out here...”  
  
“Yeah, there are...” Audrey replied, looking skeptically at Denise. “How do you two know each other?”  
  
“This is Special Agent Denise Bryson, Drug Enforcement Agency,” Dale supplied, glad to get off the other subject.  
  
“Special Agent?” Audrey repeated, looking shocked and delighted, “They have _women agents?!”_  
  
“More or less...” Denise quipped.  
  
“In fact, we were just discussing some important Agency business,” Dale pretended, fearing what else Denise might imply if he allowed her and Audrey to continue chatting, “...if you’ll excuse us, Audrey...”  
  
“I thought you were suspended?” Audrey countered.  
  
“I am.”  
  
“And I thought you were just discussing how I was ‘fun to be around’,” Audrey objected, crossing her arms. “Or was that a _private discussion?”_  
  
Denise laughed at that. “You’re right, Coop: smart, and dangerous...”  
  
“Denise...” Dale complained.  
  
“Fine. I’ll leave you to your ‘important Agency business’,” Audrey sarcastically conceded. “But you still owe me a dance, _Dale._ ”  
  
He didn’t really like how she made his name sound, this time. “I haven’t forgotten.”  
  
“Catch you later, then.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Audrey strutted off, giving the pair of Agents a fine view as she worked her way through the crowd.  
  
“Damn, Coop,” Denise murmured, “you’re in trouble. She’s one hell of a girl.”  
  
“I would’ve assumed that you were no longer into girls, Denise,” Dale replied, finishing off his martini in a large gulp.  
  
“Coop, I may be wearing a dress, but I still put my panties on one leg at a time if you know what I mean,” Denise confided, waving over the bartender and indicating that Dale’s glass was empty.  
  
“...Not really...” Dale admitted, his face expressing a confusion that went deeper than vodka.  
  
Denise laughed, slapping Dale on the back. “We’re going to need another drink if we’re going to go down _that_ particular road...”

* * *

  
  
By the time Harry had shown up, Dale was already on his third martini. Eager to catch up, Harry had gotten a few beers deep, himself, within a shorter amount of time than might’ve been socially acceptable, had they been anywhere other than a Milford wedding. Dale learned that getting sloshed at Milford weddings was a local tradition, and had been heartily encouraged to participate. Though he wasn’t normally a big drinker, he didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t let loose in the interest of indulging in the traditional festivity. When Harry placed a foamy mug of beer in front of him and nearly slurred: _“Liquor before beer, and you’re in the clear!”_ , Dale hazily reasoned that the rhythmic logic was sound enough for him.  
  
It wasn’t until Andy had drunkenly requested a dance with Denise (who had been thoroughly charmed by the earnest invitation) that Dale recalled his promise to Audrey. _Where was she?_   He hadn’t seen her since he’d last spotted her dancing with a man he didn’t recognize. After she caught him staring at her, he’d made an effort not to look out at the dance floor anymore. It seemed to him that a lot of time had passed since then.  
  
“Where are you going, Coop?” Harry asked when Dale stood up from his bar stool, unsteady on his feet. “You haven’t finished your beer!”  
  
“Judging by the way the ground feels right now, I think I’ve had enough,” Dale mused.  
  
“Nah, that just means you need another drink to steady yourself!” Harry insisted, handing Dale his unfinished mug.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Dale blinked, staring at the amber liquid skeptically.  
  
“Trust me, I know about these things,” Harry assured him with a friendly squeeze and shake of the shoulder. “Finish it.”  
  
“You got it,” Dale obliged, chugging down the rest of the beer. As he let out an involuntary belch in response, Harry laughed.  
  
“That means it worked!”  
  
“I think you’re right,” Dale observed, feeling more confident about moving, now.  
  
“Hey! Where are you _going?”_ Harry whined when Dale staggered off into the crowd.  
  
“I have to see about a girl!” Dale shouted back, eliciting another laugh from Harry.  
  
“Go get her, brother!” Harry laughed, without a clue as to who Dale was referring to.  
  
Dale felt extraordinarily light on his feet in his drunken stupor, and was ready to test out his dancing skills. He was confident that his body memory would kick in the moment he had a girl in his arms, and set out to find the prettiest girl in the room. _She had to be around there somewhere..._  
  
“Cooper!” someone shouted, stopping Dale in his inebriated tracks. He turned, searching the faces swirling around him until he focused on the smiling face of Big Ed Hurley. He had Norma Jennings in his arms, who looked perfectly content to be there.  
  
“Hello, Ed!” Dale greeted, smiling broadly, “Evening, Norma!”  
  
“You look a little lost,” Norma smiled.  
  
“I’m looking for a dance partner,” Dale told her.  
  
“Well I’m sure there’s plenty of ladies here who’d be thrilled if you asked them to dance... I don’t think anyone’s asked Margaret, yet,” Ed suggested, nodding toward Margaret Lanterman, who was seated at a side table, savoring a large slice of cake.  
  
“The Log Lady?” Dale asked, “No, I’m looking for someone else!”  
  
“Aww come on, Margaret’s not that bad!” Norma encouraged, “Go on, ask her!”  
  
“Welllll... oookay,” Dale acquiesced, not wanting to neglect anyone.  
  
“Good man!” Ed smiled, slapping Dale on the back as he stumbled in the Log Lady’s direction. If he’d been more alert, he would have noticed the good-natured snickering that the couple tried to subdue as they watched him approach the aloof woman. Instead, he approached her with absolute confidence in the appeal of his offer.  
  
“Good evening, Margaret,” Dale grinned, turning on his full, well-practiced charm. The Log Lady’s eyes darted sideways, slanted in mistrust, as she paused with a fork-full of cake hovering in front of her open mouth. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for the next dance?” Dale continued, hand upturned in a welcoming gesture.  
  
“I _don’t. dance_.” Margaret barked, swatting the hand away with impatience. Behind him, a couple of aging pranksters erupted in laughter.  
  
As Margaret returned to her cake, fully ignoring Dale’s lingering presence, Dale turned around in dazed astonishment, his eyes landing on Ed and Norma. Still laughing, Ed shrugged with mock surprise.  
  
“Very funny,” Dale grumbled, waving the couple off with a ‘ _yeah, you got me_ ,’ expression as he set off in search of a dance partner who would actually want to dance with him.  
  
Making his way along the edge of the room, Dale spotted Denise on the dance floor: she was the very picture of contentment, swaying in a close embrace with Andy, whose face indicated that he was having a really great time, too. As Denise glanced over at Dale, she gave him a wink, her smile deepening. Dale shook his head with a laugh, and continued on his inebriated quest.  
  
Audrey stared out at the room from her shadowed spot beside the makeshift altar, leaning against the log wall with a deep pout as she drew lazy shapes with one foot on the floor in time with the music. She’d stopped counting all the times she’d danced with men who weren’t Dale Cooper, and had lost interest in dancing altogether when her last partner—an uncle of the bride who had flown in from Tennessee—had let his hands wander with excessive liberty. She had been annoyed at Dale’s dismissiveness earlier, and now, after waiting for so long for the fulfillment of a promise yet to be kept, her annoyance was growing into a deeper disappointment. She was seriously considering the idea of going home and just forgetting about the stupid wedding when she caught sight of the Great Disappointment himself, stumbling around a chair as he made his way gradually around the edge of the room. He was searching the crowd, probably for her. Audrey instinctively moved deeper into the shadows, not wanting him to find her so easily. She slid closer to a decorative lattice, then hid behind it and watched Dale through the few cracks that weren’t obstructed by roses and garlands. As he came closer and closer, her heart started racing from the secret thrill of her game. _Would she let him find her? Or would she let him think she’d already left?_  
  
Before long, Dale had made his way over to the altar and stopped in front of the lattice concealing his would-be dance partner. Facing the crowd with his hands on his hips, he took another long look around the room. _Where was she?? Could she have left already? Before he’d gotten to dance with her?_... Dale wondered if he’d missed his chance, supposing she might have gone off with someone when he was busy chasing martinis with pints. _Maybe she was with Bobby..._ His stomach curdled, and not just from mixing drinks.  
  
Suddenly he heard a whisper from behind him, which was particularly disorienting since he was pretty sure there was a wall behind him.  
  
“ _You’re a jerk_.”  
  
Either Dale was more drunk than he realized (he was), or the floral arrangement just called him a jerk. He peered at it skeptically. “ _Excuse me?”_  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
“Audrey?”  
  
Dale stumbled around to the back of the lattice, gripping the side of it to steady himself, and found Audrey hiding in the crowded space between it and the wall. “What are you doing back there?”  
  
“I like it back here.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I’m tired of being asked to dance by jerks who just want to cop a feel.”  
  
“Who?? Bobby?” Dale asked, looking sober and serious in spite of his condition.  
  
“ _No_ , not _Bobby_...” Audrey replied, rolling her eyes. “I can handle Bobby Briggs.”  
  
Dale seemed relieved, his eyes softening again into their previous, beer-addled gaze.  
  
“Why did you call me a jerk?” He asked, leaning into the lattice and faltering a little as it swayed uneasily with the added weight.  
  
“You promised me a dance,” Audrey accused, leaning against the wall with one shoulder.  
  
“Hey! I was just looking for you!” Dale assured her, “I want to dance!”  
  
“Yeah? Took you long enough.”  
  
“Audrey...” Dale frowned, “I told you, I had to talk to Denise about—”  
  
“Yeah, yeah... ‘important agency business,’ I know,” Audrey interjected, “at a wedding. Over drinks. Lots of them.”  
  
“Audrey...”  
  
“And you didn’t have to be so rude about it, asking me to leave you alone after you barely even said ‘hello’ to me,” Audrey complained, looking down at her thumbnails as she outlined the edge of one with the other.  
  
“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” Dale explained, starting to lean into the lattice again until he realized it wasn’t secured to anything and he overcorrected himself.  
  
“Well, you weren’t very nice,” Audrey said quietly, her eyes lifting to meet Dale’s in a confrontational stare.  
  
Dale swallowed as he stared back at her, once again lost in those unearthly eyes of hers. _Dear lord! Those eyes were really something..._ She’d just said something to him; his mind tried to recall her words. _Something about how he hadn’t been nice to her... he wanted to be nice to her... he could be nice... so nice..._  
  
Unable to bear the weight he was unthinkingly directing onto it, the decorative lattice lurched sideways as Dale leaned in toward Audrey, toppling over the altar with a startling clamor and taking the overhanging garlands—and Dale—down with it. Audrey stood stock-still, shoulders hunched in a protective posture, as the band stopped playing and everyone turned toward the racket with gasps of alarm.  
  
As soon as it happened, Harry had pushed his way toward the clatter, shouting “That’s my cue!”, as he assumed this was yet another Milford wedding to end in brother-on-brother violence. Now Harry stood at the edge of the crowd, gaping at Audrey and wondering why she was holding back tears of laughter. He looked down to find Cooper lying on the ground, half-concealed by a fallen lattice and trying to untangle a lacerated garland from around his head.  
  
“JEEZus, what the hell happened?!” Harry chided, moving to help Dale to his feet, “You startled me! I thought the Miltons were at it again!”  
  
“I knocked this over,” Dale weakly explained, indicating the lattice on top of him. “It wasn’t secured properly.”  
  
“It wasn’t _meant_ to be _touched!”_ Lucy defended, suddenly appearing with a wild look on her face as she surveyed the damage to her beautiful handiwork.  
  
“Apologies, Lucy,” Dale offered, sitting up and plucking a leaf from his mussed hair as Harry tossed the lattice aside. “It was my fault.”  
  
“Well, so long as you’re okay,” Lucy graciously conceded, arms crossed. “I guess the party’s almost over, anyway.”  
  
“Nah, it’s just getting started!” Harry laughed, swatting some leafy bits off Dale’s shoulder. “Only at a Milford wedding...” Harry looked up, remembering that Audrey had been close to the disaster. “Are you okay, Audrey?”  
  
“I’m fine, Sheriff,” Audrey laughed, “Just a little shaken up... One minute, Agent Cooper was asking me to dance; the next thing I know, he was on the floor and had taken half the decorations with him!”  
  
“Smooth move,” Harry laughed.  
  
“Yeah, real smooth,” Dale agreed, glancing at Audrey.  
  
“Sounds like you could use a cup of coffee,” Lucy suggested, her voice and face straining to convey her not-so-subtle meaning.  
  
“Or another beer,” Harry chuckled.  
  
“I guess this means that dance will have to wait?” Audrey sighed.  
  
Dale rose to his feet with Harry’s help, stretching out his leg to test its soreness. He didn’t feel great, but he wasn’t in terrible shape.  
  
“How about a ten-minute rain check?” Dale bargained.  
  
“Deal,” Audrey smiled, walking away somewhat shyly as she left Dale in the capable hands of Harry and Lucy. Dale watched her go, already regretting his blunder.  
  
“What is everybody staring at?” Harry yelled at the crowd, “Nothing to see here! Let’s have some music already!”  
  
As the band started up again and everyone slowly resumed their former activities, Harry looked at Dale expectantly. “So whaddya say? Join me for another round?”  
  
“He needs _coffee_ , Sheriff Truman,” Lucy protested.  
  
“Lucy, this is a _Milford wedding!”_ Harry insisted.  
  
When Lucy just rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation as she walked away from the unreasonable men, Dale guessed his fate had been decided for him. “Another beer, Harry!”

* * *

  
  
Audrey took the opportunity to visit the ladies' room, wanting to check herself out in the mirror before her much-anticipated dance with Dale. When she saw how crowded the Great Hall restrooms were, she headed for the employee restrooms instead. That’s when she heard her father’s voice coming from the hallway.  
  
“Where the _hell_ have you _been?”_ Ben demanded.  
  
“We can’t do this out here,” another man responded in a low voice. “Let’s go to your office.”  
  
With a huff of indignation, her father mumbled a begrudging agreement and led the way to his office as the other man followed. Audrey peered around the corner and recognized the other man as Norma Jennings’ fresh-out-of-prison husband, Hank. _What business did he have with her father?_  
  
Looking back at the clock hanging in the reception area, Audrey figured she would have enough time to sneak away and listen in on whatever was going on between the two men. _After all, what if it was about something that could be helpful to Dale?_

 

* * *

  
  
“So then I told her, ‘listen, lady: I don’t know what kind of racket you think you’re running, but I’m not going to _pay you_ for having a couple drinks with me!’” Harry said, continuing his drunken recollection.  
  
“She wanted money because you talked her ear off for over an hour,” Ed chuckled.  
  
“I had no idea she was on the job!” Harry swore, “I just thought she was coming on pretty strong, and since she was such a babe, I was happy to oblige...”  
  
“I’m sure she wouldn’t’ve demanded money if she knew you were a cop,” Dale smirked.  
  
“No, that’s the best part!” Harry exclaimed, “So then she says, ‘If you don’t pay me what you owe for an hour of my time, I’m gonna call the police!’ — as if she had legal recurs... re... recourse. Legal _recourse_... and then I said, ‘lady... I _am_ the police!’”  
  
They guys shared a laugh at that. “What did she do, then?” Dale asked.  
  
“She high-tailed it out of there faster ’n a babysitter’s boyfriend when a car pulls up!” Ed finished, eliciting more laughs.  
  
“Yep, Ed got me real good that time,” Harry recalled. “If he hadn’t’ve convinced me that she was checking me out, I never would’ve thought to approach a woman like that.”  
  
“But how did you know she was a hooker?” Dale asked Ed.  
  
“The better question is, how did Harry _not_ realize that she _was_ ,” Ed chuckled.  
  
“So now he got you with Margaret,” Harry told Dale. “That was an easy one. Sooner or later, everyone falls for that gag.”  
  
“She never dances, huh?” Dale asked.  
  
“Never,” Ed smirked.  
  
“But you struck out twice in a row, didn’t you?” Harry grinned, “First you get rejected by the Log Lady, then you literally _crash_ and burn with Audrey Horne!”  
  
“Audrey! That reminds me,” Dale remembered, sitting up straighter and looking around the room, “I still owe her a dance!”  
  
“Look at him! Ready to get back out there!” Harry exclaimed with approval, “Go get ‘em, tiger!”  
  
“But where is she?” Dale frowned.  
  
“Aww, she’ll turn up,” Harry asserted, overly helpful in his inebriation.  
  
“I told her to give me ten minutes... how long has it been?”  
  
“What do I look like, a cop?” Harry slurred.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I _said_ , what do I _look_ like, a _clock?”_  
  
“You look like a drunk,” Ed teased.  
  
“Good idea,” Harry agreed, “Bartender!”  
  
“Not for me,” Dale groaned, “I can’t keep up with you two. I can’t feel my legs anymore.”  
  
“Then you’re only half way there,” Harry grinned.  
  
“That’s far enough for me, thanks,” Dale insisted. “I’m going to go find Audrey.”  
  
“Better go while you still can,” Ed joked in an undertone while Harry ordered another round from the bartender. “I can hold my own against Harry, but he doesn’t have any sympathy for lightweights when he’s tied on this many...”  
  
“I heard that,” Harry pointed out.  
  
“I’ll catch you boys later,” Dale grinned, shuffling away from the bar on unsteady legs.  
  
“Keep away from Lucy’s decorations!” Harry shouted, “Or she’ll force-feed you coffee beans!”  
  
“The only one ‘full of beans’ here is you, buddy,” Ed joked.  
  
Dale shook his head as he walked away, amused by the drunken antics of the local Sheriff. This was a side to Harry that he hadn’t seen before, and so long as this side came out only on rare occasions like the Milford weddings ( _though apparently such occasions weren’t all that rare in Twin Peaks_...), then he was glad to be able to witness it. _And participate in it_ , his wobbly legs reminded him.  
  
He still couldn’t find Audrey anywhere. He hoped that he hadn’t taken so long with Ed and Harry that she was hiding again. Pausing beside a table, he wondered where she might be hiding this time... his beer-addled brain suggested that he lift up the tablecloth and peek underneath, just in case...  
  
“My eyes are up here, sonny!” An elderly lady who was seated at the table scolded him, bopping him over the head with her cane.  
  
“Ow!” Dale whined, rubbing his head. “Sorry!” he apologized when he saw the expression on the woman’s face.  
  
Backing away from the table, Dale suddenly realized that he really needed to urinate. He headed back in the other direction, toward the Great Hall restrooms near the bar. He glanced over at Harry and Ed, and realized they’d witnessed his encounter with the old woman.  
  
“Struck out again, eh Coop?” Harry laughed.  
  
Dale made a face that just made the two men laugh harder, and escaped into the brightly-lit restroom to relieve himself.  
  
Shortly after Dale retreated, Audrey showed up looking around with an urgent expression. Unable to spot Dale anywhere, she decided to ask the Sheriff where he might have gone.  
  
“Sheriff Truman, do you know where I can find Agent Cooper?”  
  
Harry regarded the young woman thoughtfully from his bar stool. “He’s not an agent anymore, you know.”  
  
“Yeah, well, he said it was alright if I still called him that,” Audrey explained, trying to be patient. “Do you know where he is?”  
  
Harry took another sip of his beer, thinking over her reply. “He said you could still call him Agent Cooper?” Harry pressed.  
  
“Yeah... why not?” Audrey argued, “It’s not like he isn’t going to be reinstated.”  
  
“Is that what he said?” Harry asked, looking surprised.  
  
“Well, no, but that’s what I think,” Audrey replied.  
  
“What makes you so sure?” Harry inquired, leaning back against the bar counter.  
  
“He’s innocent,” Audrey maintained.  
  
“That doesn’t guarantee everything’s going to work out for him,” Harry confided.  
  
“I know. That’s why he needs help to prove it,” Audrey stated. “And I think I found out something that could be helpful to him, so if you know where he went...”  
  
“He’s in the boy’s room, honey,” Ed supplied, “you just missed him.”  
  
“Oh, thanks,” Audrey said, looking anxiously toward the restrooms.  
  
“What did you find out?” Harry asked, looking speculatively at Audrey.  
  
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep the information confidential,” Audrey demurred.  
  
Harry took another gulp of beer before arguing, “It doesn’t work like that.” When Audrey gave him an inquisitive look, Harry suppressed a burp before deigning to offer an explanation in elongated speech, his drunkenness producing exaggeratedly drawn-out syllables: “We _already know_ that you’re the source, so if he tells us that he’s got new information from an onymuh... from an onymus... from an AN.on.y.mous source... we’ll already know that it came from you.”  
  
“He’s got a point, more or less,” Ed shrugged.  
  
“That’s assuming that he tells you everything,” Audrey bantered.  
  
“Psshhh. Coop’s got nothing to hide,” Harry replied, dismissing the notion with a flick of his hand.  
  
“People are allowed to keep things to themselves,” Audrey countered, “it doesn’t mean they’re hiding anything.”  
  
Harry thought that one over, taking more time to do so than the situation perhaps required. Fortunately, before he was obliged to come up with a coherent response, Dale reemerged.  
  
“Audrey! There you are!”  
  
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” she insisted, “it’s important.”  
  
“Okay...” Dale answered, glancing at the faces of Ed and Harry for clues, but just finding more questions there.  
  
“Come with me,” Audrey urged, beckoning for Dale to follow her out of the Great Hall.  
  
Dale followed, hoping that this wasn’t about why he took more than ten minutes to come find her after his accident. Audrey led him out across the foyer and into the lobby, then reached into her pocket for a key as she took him behind the front desk. While Audrey opened a door that led into a storage space, Dale glanced at the back side of the desk with curiosity.  
  
“Come on, back here,” she said, crossing to the far end of the space, where another door opened into a large closet.  
  
Bemused, Dale allowed her to pull him into the closet, where she pulled a cord to turn on a dim overhead light bulb and shut the door behind them.  
  
“Where are we?” Dale asked, blinking as he looked around the dimly-lit space.  
  
“The coat room,” Audrey answered, as if it were perfectly obvious.  
  
“Why are we in the coat room?” Dale asked, looking at Audrey strangely.  
  
“Because I have to tell you something and I don’t want anyone to hear us.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Dale looked down at Audrey, patiently waiting for an explanation. For just a moment, she forgot what she wanted to tell him.  
  
“Um... oh yeah. Well I was out by the hallway, when I heard my father talking to someone... another man. I didn’t know who it was at first, but then I saw that it was Hank, you know, Norma’s husband? The one that just got out of prison and works at the diner sometimes? Well, my father was angry with him and they went into his office to have a private conversation, so I eavesdropped in case they were talking about anything that might be helpful to you...”  
  
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on private conversations,” Dale chided.  
  
Audrey gave Dale a withering look as she replied, “You work for the FBI and you’re telling me not to eavesdrop?”  
  
“That’s different,” Dale frowned.  
  
“Sure. Well anyway, it turns out that Hank used to work for my father, but Hank said that he’s working for somebody else now; somebody who’s running One Eye’d Jack’s now instead of my father—a ‘friendly takeover,’ he called it—and _guess who_ that somebody is?”  
  
Dale looked confused for a moment, then understanding dawned on him. He looked at Audrey with a mix of awe, protectiveness, and admiration as he answered, “Jean Renault.”  
  
“Yeah,” Audrey nodded, her eyes flashing as she read the emotions on Dale’s face and answered them with some of her own. “Can you believe it?” she half-whispered, “My father was livid. I’m not sure if that’s because he lost control of One Eye’d Jack’s, or because of what Renault did to me. Maybe both.”  
  
“Audrey, this is very useful information, thank you,” Dale said softly, placing his hands on the sides of her shoulders. “But I don’t like you putting yourself in harm’s way. If Hank is working for Renault, then he’s dangerous. What if he caught you spying on him?”  
  
“He wouldn’t have caught me, trust me,” Audrey assured him, “I know how to eavesdrop around here without anyone knowing.”  
  
“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” Dale reproved. His hands were still on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing back and forth in an unconsciously possessive gesture. He was vaguely aware of the pleasant sensations that his sensory neurons were producing, stimulated by the light touching.

“You worry too much,” Audrey told him, her voice thick with desire as she gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She was even more aware of what Dale’s hands were doing than he was, and she encouraged the touching by relaxing into and under it, much like a cat does.

Dale’s breaths were coming in shorter, now. He nearly swooned as he felt the alcohol coursing through his system, the narcotic effect amplified by the intoxicating girl in front of him.  
  
“Are you all right?” Audrey asked, one of her hands catching on to one of his at her shoulder, the other landing on his hip as she steadied him, studying his face as he blinked away the phosphenes that had blurred his vision.  
  
“I’m okay,” Dale replied, his voice slightly strained. “There’s not much air in here.”  
  
“Do you want to go outside?” Audrey suggested, looking concerned.  
  
Dale’s attention focused on the hand lightly squeezing his hip, then shifted to the other hand settled on top of his. His sensory neurons were firing all sorts of signals at once, too many to untangle in his condition. He felt unsteady.  
  
“I think I need to lie down” Dale admitted.  
  
“Okay, can you make it up to your room?” Audrey asked, “We can use the service elevator, it’s quicker...”  
  
“Sounds good,” Dale agreed, suddenly overwhelmed by an uncharacteristic claustrophobia.  
  
Audrey nodded, scanning Dale’s face briefly before taking his hand into hers and steering him back toward the exit with the hand at his hip. Dale’s free hand fell away from her shoulder as she moved, but—not content to abandon the sensation of touch altogether—skimmed lightly down her arm as it fell, marveling at the ability to do so. He felt bereft as she moved further away to open the closet door, though his other hand was still clutched in hers. He focused on that point of contact, instead.  
  
She led him out through the strange back room again and then around a corner, taking him deeper into the inner workings of the hotel. He felt completely disoriented, and was grateful for the hand that still held on to his, grounding him and guiding him through the unknown space. He could hear and smell the kitchen up ahead, but Audrey stopped in front of an elevator door and pressed a button before he could get a good look at it. The doors opened immediately, and before he knew it they were on their way up to the third floor. Audrey was holding his hand and watching the arrow move on the old floor indicator; Dale gazed down at her, studying her face. She glanced over at him as the arrow stilled on the number three. A faint _ding_ sounded. The door slid open.  
  
“This is your floor,” Audrey spoke.  
  
Dale watched the words form perfectly from her mouth. He liked it when she spoke to him.  
  
“Come on,” she said, gently tugging him toward the hallway. He was happy to oblige.  
  
As they passed numerous identical doors, Dale felt like they were going in the wrong direction. Audrey seemed to know where she was going, though, so Dale didn’t try to correct her.  
  
They stopped in front of the room marked “315,” which Dale was relieved to recognize as his own. Before he could think to reach for his key, Audrey released his hand and produced one from her own pocket, fitting it into his lock.  
  
“Master key,” she explained, when she saw him frowning in confusion.  
  
After they’d entered the room, Audrey shut the door behind them and watched Dale collapse gratefully onto his bed with a groan of satisfaction. She took one of the overturned glasses from a side table and filled it with water from the tap, then sat beside him on the mattress and offered him the glass. Dale squinted at it skeptically.  
  
“Come on, drink,” she instructed, “your hangover will be worse if you’re dehydrated.”  
  
“I’m not hungover,” Dale argued, his head swimming. “I feel pretty good, actually...”  
  
“The hangover comes after, dummy,” Audrey chided.  
  
“I’m not thirsty,” Dale protested when Audrey tapped the glass against him. “I could maybe eat something, though.”  
  
“You’re hungry?”  
  
“Food is also good to prevent hangovers,” Dale observed, holding a finger in the air. “Absorbs alcohol.”  
  
“Well, do you have anything to eat around here?” Audrey asked, looking around the room.  
  
“I want pie,” Dale smiled, eyes closed.  
  
“Pie? Again? Are you serious?” Audrey complained, frustrated that he was suddenly so interested in food. “I don’t know if we have any pie left, I can call the kitchen though if you want.”  
  
“Yes please.”  
  
Sighing dramatically, Audrey went over to the phone and dialed the kitchen. “Hi Mark, it’s Audrey Horne. I have a guest who’s asking for pie. Do we have any left?”  
  
Dale sat up a little, feeling very invested in the outcome of the conversation.  
  
“Hmm, I don’t know,” she frowned, “I’ll ask him.” Covering the receiver with her hand, Audrey turned to Dale and said, “There aren’t any pies left and they won’t be making any more until morning, but they could bring up some cake if you want.”  
  
“I don’t want cake, I want pie,” Dale complained.  
  
“Never mind, Mark. Thanks anyway,” Audrey said before hanging up the phone.  
  
Audrey regarded Dale for a moment before a thought occurred to her. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. I’m going to run down to the break room real quick, okay? I’ll be right back.”  
  
“Is there pie in the break room?” Dale asked, looking hopeful.  
  
“No, but there’s something else you might like. Don’t go anywhere,” Audrey said as she headed out the door, leaving Dale wondering what could possibly be considered a feasible substitution for pie.  
  
The room felt too quiet after she left. Dale shut his eyes for a moment, feeling the pull of sleep coaxing at him. He knew that he shouldn’t fall asleep with his shoes on, so he begrudgingly made the effort to kick them off. His jacket felt heavy and oppressive, and he remembered how Denise had teased him about it. He groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position, then fumbled to unbutton and remove the offensive garment once and for all. He let the jacket fall to the floor as he settled back against the pillows and unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt before unfastening the ones at his wrists. The belt came off next, then Dale unfastened the top button of his pants and was finally able to relax.

* * *

  
When Audrey got back to Dale’s room, she found him dozing off in a state of partial undress. She approached him slowly, enjoying the view of the attractive man looking so serene and unkempt. He looked more desirable than ever lying there, with his face and lips lightly flushed from the alcohol, a teasing triangle of his chest exposed, shirt coming out of his unbuttoned pants. Moving to sit beside him, she reached over to pull a small piece of leaf matter from the wedding garland out of his hair. She gently combed her fingers through his hair, sifting for any other bits of garland. _Just in case_...  
  
Dale opened his eyes, blinking as he looked up at her. “Audrey,” he breathed.  
  
Audrey looked at him searchingly, swallowing before she composed herself and said, “Hey, I brought you something.”  
  
Dale glanced at the plate in her other hand, and smelled the sweet, freshly-toasted aroma of buttered pop tarts.  
  
“Pop tarts?” he asked, sitting up with interest.  
  
“Yeah, I hope you like these,” Audrey replied. “The strawberry ones are my favorite. I put some butter on them for you because that’s how I like them.”  
  
“That sounds good,” Dale smiled, taking the plate gratefully and sitting up more fully.  
  
“I also brought you these,” Audrey added, pulling a small bottle of aspirin out of her pocket. “You should take a couple before you go to sleep, _with water._ ”  
  
“Will do,” Dale agreed before biting into the first pop tart. He ate them with relish while Audrey watched, pleased that he appreciated her idea. “These are terrific, Audrey,” Dale approved. “Thanks.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Dale set aside the plate after he’d finished, taking the aspirin with water as Audrey encouraged him to. When he lay back down, Audrey started to leave before he stopped her with a hand on her arm.  
  
“Where are you going?” Dale asked, playing with the fabric of her sleeve.  
  
“Aren’t you tired?” Audrey asked, unsure what he wanted from her.  
  
“Nope,” Dale answered.  
  
“You want me to stay?” Audrey asked, looking conflicted.  
  
“Yeah. I like you,” Dale smiled. He was definitely still drunk.  
  
“Because I bring you pop tarts?” Audrey teased.  
  
“Yeah. And you smell good.”  
  
“I do? What do I smell like?”  
  
“Liiiiiiiike... a pretty girl.”  
  
“You think I’m pretty?” Audrey smiled.  
  
“Everybody thinks you’re pretty,” Dale replied, his hand drifting down to the edge of her sleeve.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Audrey asked distractedly as she felt his fingers caress the skin at her wrist.  
  
“Your wrists are pretty,” Dale murmured, his other hand moving to touch his fingertips to hers, marveling at the way his hand fit against hers. “Your hands are pretty.”  
  
“You’re drunk,” Audrey laughed, enjoying the exploratory touches from the alcohol-addled man.  
  
“Come here,” Dale coaxed, trying to draw Audrey closer to him.  
  
“Dale...” Audrey objected as he pulled her down on top of him, her arms leaning into his chest.  
  
“I like when you call me that,” Dale smiled, studying her face up close.  
  
Audrey smiled softly, touching his lower lip with her fingertip. “I think I should go,” she whispered.  
  
“I don’t,” Dale breathed.  
  
Audrey regarded him for a moment before sighing, “I know I could kiss you right now, but I don’t think it would be right to take advantage of a drunken man,” she whispered, looking wistfully at Dale, “even one this devastatingly handsome.”  
  
“But I like you,” Dale objected, softly.  
  
“Yeah, well, I like you, too,” Audrey smirked, reluctantly pulling away from him. “Which is why I’m going to go before something happens that you’ll regret later.”  
  
“Audrey, Audrey, Audrey...” Dale sighed.  
  
“See you later,” Audrey smiled, looking at Dale adoringly.  
  
“Hey!” He remembered, “We never got to dance!”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Audrey replied, looking at him pointedly, “You owe me one.”  
  
Dale watched Audrey back out of the room with one last, longing glance at him, then let his head fall back onto his pillow as he breathed out a long sigh.  
  
“Oh, Audrey,” he muttered to himself. “Audrey... Audrey... _Audrey._..”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 8/2/17

Dale woke to a pounding headache that was so painful it was nearly audible. After a couple minutes, when he heard the muffled call of _“room service!”_ he realized that the pounding was, in fact, actual knocking at his hotel room door. Knowing this didn’t make him feel any better.  
  
With a low moan, he rolled over to grab his watch from the bedside table to gauge just how disruptive—on a scale of pre-dawn to noon—the unsolicited hospitality actually was. It took him a moment of blind fumbling before he realized that he’d never even taken off his watch in the first place. He frowned deeply as he peered at its face: it was half past eight. He tamped down his indignation to a more moderate level as he reluctantly rose from the bed.  
  
If the woman who stood outside his room with a serving tray had noticed the telltale signs of a hangover that a thoroughly ruffled Dale Cooper was sporting as he greeted her, she made a commendable effort not to show it. Instead, she entered the room with a cheery briskness that Dale found mildly irritating in his condition and set the hot coffee and fresh slice of cherry pie on the side table for him with minimal fuss.  
  
Dale scratched at his stomach as he surveyed the unexpected (but not unwelcome) small meal. “Did I order that?” he asked, fairly certain that he had not.  
  
“Hospitality Services sent it up for you, sir,” the woman smiled, “—‘gratis’.”  
  
“That was very considerate,” Dale muttered, his sluggish mind working to figure out what he might have done to deserve it. This was clearly Audrey’s doing.  
  
The woman excused herself and left Dale to mull over his foggy memories. He felt that a lot had transpired, but could only piece together a rough outline with dubious chronology. Vaguely claustrophobic impressions of being shut in a closet with Audrey overshadowed all other memories, so he focused on that one, first.  
  
She had been standing close to him, whispering; he recalled the way her eyes had looked as she gazed up at him, earnest and slightly urgent. _What was she telling him?_ He felt like it had been important... As he tried to recall her words, an impression of being concerned for her safety manifested. _Was she in some kind of trouble? Was that what she had told him... in a closet?_  
  
He tried to trace further back for clues. There were fuzzy memories of drinking and laughing with Harry, and Big Ed. Embarrassment colored his thoughts as he suddenly recalled knocking over some wedding decorations during the dancing. _Audrey had witnessed that; she had been there, with him... very close to him, in another crowded space... what had they been doing, that time?_ His stomach twisted as he remembered wanting to kiss her; it had been a fleeting moment, and he was sure he hadn’t acted on it (thank God), but he recalled the brief temptation, nonetheless. _Did she know? Had it been obvious? ...Is that why they had ended up in a closet together?_... His stomach somersaulting at the thought, he decided to focus on something else.  
  
There had been a revealing conversation with Denise, during which many martinis had been consumed. Considering the fact that one was his general limit, he should have known that the night would end up going sideways for him. Maybe he had known, and had decided not to care. Harry hadn’t cared; Dale remembered how intent Harry had been on drinking himself into a stupor throughout the night, citing the ‘Milton Wedding’ tradition. Dale had happily joined him, though he also knew that he’d already thrown back a few by the time Harry had shown up. Feeling guilty for the overindulgence, he reminded himself that he’d been under pressure because of the investigation, which is why he’d gotten so uncharacteristically drunk that night. While that was partially true, he ignored the nagging sense that he’d been trying to escape _other_ feelings that he wasn’t comfortable with.  
  
Despite himself, a persistent memory of Audrey dancing in the overly-familiar arms of Bobby Briggs arose, unbidden. Dale closed his eyes as he sipped at his coffee, choosing to focus instead on the taste of freshly brewed beans. The taste was off, though; the consistency of the liquid felt weird in his mouth. He knew that the coffee itself wasn’t to blame. He decided not to drink again anytime soon.  
  
Dale carefully sat down at the side table, his whole body aching from the movement. He stared at the pie with uncertainty as he picked at it with his fork, hoping that his hangover wouldn’t ruin _that_ , as well. As the flaky crust crumbled away and revealed a viscous, chunky red filling, Dale remembered munching on a buttered pop tart at some point that night. He’d been eating pop tarts in bed. _With Audrey_ , his insinuating brain supplied. _Yes, Audrey had definitely been in his room_. He couldn’t remember why, but he knew that pop tarts had been involved.  
  
As the full-body, sickly feeling grew stronger, Dale added up what little he did remember: him and Audrey together in a closet; him and Audrey close together in a dark corner of the Great Hall; him and Audrey alone in his room, eating pop tarts in bed...  
  
Though he tried to give himself the benefit of the doubt, no matter which way he looked at it, he was convinced that it all added up to one painfully overwhelming fact: he’d been getting way too close to Audrey Horne.

* * *

  
  
Bobby Briggs checked his reflection in the rear-view mirror, making sure that there wasn’t any cereal stuck in his teeth before he made another pass at Ben Horne. Though the previous night had been a bust, he was feeling hopeful this morning. Last night, the timing had been wrong. He recognized that in hindsight. But today was a new day, and after a good night of socializing and drinking, he was pretty sure that Ben would be more receptive to his proposal. At any rate, he was all suited-up again and had nothing to lose.  
  
When he strode into the lobby of the Great Northern, Bobby’s confidence faltered when he saw the chaos that was unfolding: two deputies were talking to a wide-eyed receptionist, and several hotel staff people were standing around looking nervous while guests flooded the lobby—some dressed, some still in nightclothes—asking questions and shaking their heads, all wearing the same shocked expression. Whatever was going on must have been bad, because the next moment Doc Hayward was striding in with his medical examiner’s bag and a dour, let’s-get-down-to-business demeanor that suggested he wasn’t there to make anything better.  
  
“What’s up, Doc?” Bobby asked, “Why does it look like somebody died in here?”  
  
“Because somebody did,” Will replied in a flat affect. “Excuse me, Bobby.”  
  
_Great. Another dead body._ Bobby’s shoulders slumped as he cursed his luck, wondering whether it would be a better idea to come back another time. While he stood there weighing his options, he caught sight of Audrey Horne speaking compassionately with a harried guest over by the stairwell. _Maybe she’d be able to tell him whether her father might need his services this morning..._  
  
“I know, Mrs. Greene; I’m so sorry that this happened...”  
  
“And what about poor Chester!” the woman gasped, covering her mouth with her hand at the realization.  
  
“Who’s Chester?” Audrey asked.  
  
“That’s what Dougie called his cat,” the woman replied in a sorrowful tone. “Chester is a really beautiful animal. A persian. Dougie just adored him... Who’s going to take care of poor Chester, now?”  
  
“I’m sure Mr. Milford’s widow likes cats,” Audrey assured her, “I mean, if she was planning on living with one...”  
  
“Oh! I wouldn’t put poor Chester in the care of _that woman!”_ Mrs. Greene exclaimed, “What if she poisons him just like she did to Dougie!”  
  
“Hey Audrey,” Bobby interjected, “what’s going on?”  
  
_“Dougie’s been poisoned!”_ Mrs. Greene told Bobby in a breathy undertone.  
  
“We don’t know that,” Audrey countered, “he may have died of natural causes...”  
  
“On his wedding night?” Mrs. Greene challenged, “Who dies on their wedding night!? Victims! _Murder victims_ , that’s who!”  
  
“Milford is dead?” Bobby asked, looking puzzled, “Already?”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Mrs. Greene asked with concern.  
  
“Well, I thought he’d at least last a good year or so before that sex-kitten new wife of his wore him out. The dude was pretty old, but not ancient...”  
  
“You’re not helping, Bobby,” Audrey complained when Mrs. Greene looked scandalized.  
  
“Mrs. Greene, will you excuse me for a moment?” Audrey asked, taking Bobby by the arm. At the woman’s nod of assent, Audrey led Bobby into the hallway.  
  
“Let me guess,” she told him, “you want to see my father.”  
  
“You jealous?” Bobby kidded, glancing at her light grip on his arm.  
  
“Actually, I think it might be a good idea that you see him now; he’s got a lot going on and he might need your help...”  
  
“Yeah?” Bobby asked, looking interested. “What’s up?”  
  
“You’ll have to let him give you the details,” Audrey half-whispered, “I’m not supposed to know anything about it. But here’s the deal: I’ll get you in to his office again, but from here on out, you and I gotta work together, all right? You gotta keep me in the loop, Bobby Briggs. We help each other, okay?”  
  
“I don’t get it; I’m just looking for a job... what do you want out of this?” Bobby asked, confused.  
  
“Information,” Audrey told him. “I need to know what’s going on with certain business ventures of his.”  
  
“What for?” Bobby asked, “Why do you care?”  
  
“Let’s just say I have a vested interest,” Audrey cryptically replied.  
  
“Ooookay... I don’t see why we need to keep secrets from each other, so long as we’re both getting what we want out of this arrangement...” Bobby answered, leaning into her touch.  
  
“Good,” Audrey smiled.  
  
“I scratch your back... you scratch mine, right?” Bobby continued, smirking suggestively.  
  
“I’ll scratch your back, but that’s all I’ll scratch,” Audrey smirked back, releasing his arm and backing away as he leaned in too close for comfort.  
  
“That’s all I’m asking,” Bobby replied with mock innocence, holding out his hands in a placating gesture.  
  
“Wait here,” Audrey told him with a sly smile, shaking her head before walking toward her father’s office.  
  
Bobby leaned back against the wall as he watched her go, wondering just what a guy had to do to get the interest of a girl like that. _Probably kill a mountain lion with his bare hands, or be some rich jackass millionaire or something,_ Bobby sighed.

* * *

  
  
“Just tell me if you think there might have been any chance of foul play,” Harry beseeched Doc Hayward, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. He hadn’t had a hangover this rough since the last Milford wedding.  
  
“It looks like a cut-and-dried case of heart failure, Harry,” Will sighed. “I can perform an autopsy to confirm it—and judging by the gossip-mongering going around out there, we’re going to be obliged to perform one anyway—but as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to arrest anyone on suspicion of murder. Not today, at least.”  
  
“That’s all I need to hear,” Harry murmured. “Thanks, Doc. If you’ll excuse me—”  
  
Will held up a hand, already knowing what Harry was going to say. “Water. Lots of it. And go back to bed, if you can.”  
  
“I should be so lucky,” Harry complained, heading toward the stairwell. “Thanks, I’ll see you later...”  
  
Harry passed by the elevator, not wanting to take another chance at disrupting his already off-balance equilibrium. He’d nearly vomited earlier, when the trip up to the third floor had ended in a stomach-dropping lurch just before the doors opened. Now, standing at the top of the stairwell and contemplating the long, laborious descent, Harry’s stomach gurgled in protest. He wasn’t going to make it. He needed a toilet, _pronto._  
  
Luckily, Harry recalled Dale’s room number. He backtracked until he found the right door, then knocked firmly as he gripped his stomach in discomfort. When there was no immediate reply, he knocked harder.  
  
Dale opened the door with a long-suffering expression, which was practically mirrored in the face of the man standing across from him. He was wearing fresh boxers and an undershirt now, but still looked as if he’d fell out of a moving garbage truck.  
  
“Can I use your toilet?” Harry asked, by way of greeting.  
  
Dale stood aside, holding out an arm gesturing toward the bathroom.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry murmured as he passed by with as much dignity as he could muster.  
  
When Harry had finished, Dale filled a glass with tap water and held it out for him. “Not that is isn’t great to see you, Harry, but did you really need to come up to my hotel room to do this?”  
  
“Sorry, Coop,” Harry apologized, gratefully taking a gulp of the cool water. “Had to. Couldn’t make it back down to the lobby.”  
  
“Why aren’t you in bed?” Dale asked, confused. “After the night we had, that’s where I’d like to be...”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Harry grumbled, holding the water glass to his forehead.  
  
“It’s not like I can sleep, anyhow,” Dale continued. “My head hurts so much that every person passing by my room sounds like a stampeding elephant. And it sounds like every voice I hear out there is shouting.”  
  
“You probably did hear shouting,” Harry told him, voice gruff. He moved to sit heavily in one of the chairs by the side table, resting his water glass on his knee. “Milford died, you know.”  
  
“What?? When?” Dale asked, taking the chair beside him.  
  
“Sometime in the early morning, Doc says. Looks like his heart gave out... and before you make any jokes about the young wife, I swear that I’ve heard enough of them this morning.”  
  
“How about that...” Dale said quietly, looking out into the room with a thoughtful expression.  
  
“Yeah,” Harry solemnly agreed.  
  
“Is she okay?” Dale asked, “The wife? Or, widow?”  
  
“She’s a mess, and there’s all these crazy accusations flying around, too. But Hawk is looking after her. Pretty intently, if you know what I mean.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Dale asked, looking surprised, “Hawk and the grieving widow, huh?”  
  
“He’s a comforting presence,” Harry grinned, “always ready to lend a hand to a gal in need. Especially if the gal’s as pretty as Lana. Hey... speaking of pretty girls... where did you go last night? The last time I saw you, Audrey Horne was dragging you away from the bar... she mentioned something about needing to talk to you?”  
  
“I wish I could tell you, Harry,” Dale cringed, “but my memories of last night’s events aren’t fully intact.”  
  
“Well, what _do_ you remember?” Harry pressed, “Where did you go?”  
  
“Back to my room, I think.”  
  
“With Audrey?” Harry asked, carefully.  
  
“It wasn’t like that, Harry,” Dale explained. “Actually, I don’t know what it was like. But nothing... untoward... happened. I think she made me pop tarts.”  
  
“...Pop tarts?”  
  
“Yeah, strawberry. With melted butter.”  
  
“You remember _that_ , but you can’t remember what she wanted to tell you?” Harry asked skeptically.  
  
“I’m not a big drinker,” Dale admitted. “One is usually my limit, actually.”  
  
Harry looked thoughtful before asking, “Was the investigation getting to you?”  
  
“Yeah, that might’ve been it,” Dale demurred. “I also never really get much of a chance to ‘let loose,’ so I guess I just figured, _when at a Milford wedding_...”  
  
“If I’d known that this would be the _last_ Milford wedding, I might’ve gotten even more drunk,” Harry realized.  
  
“Well, I suppose there’s always the Mayor,” Dale observed.  
  
“Dwayne?” Harry scoffed. “He’s almost ninety.”  
  
“Never say never,” Dale noted.  
  
“So you really don’t remember anything, huh?” Harry asked again after a beat. “Even knocking over the decorations?”  
  
“Ugh. I do remember that, actually,” Dale muttered, rubbing his neck. “Thanks for reminding me.”  
  
“It could’ve been worse,” Harry grinned. “At least you didn’t knock over the wedding cake.” When Dale looked up at him curiously, Harry elaborated: “Andy. ’86. It was a mess. Lucy didn’t speak to him for weeks.”  
  
“She made the cake?”  
  
“No, but she set up the table it had been sitting on. I guess she got some flak for disguising a flimsy old card table with a nice tablecloth. There was a lot of blame going around. I also got some of it, for getting Andy drunk.”  
  
“You can be pretty persistent,” Dale pointed out.  
  
“Hey, it was a Milford wedding,” Harry shrugged, as if that explained everything for him.  
  
At the sound of another knock at the door, Harry’s face clouded. “I really hope that’s not someone looking for me,” he groaned.  
  
“Does anyone even know you’re in here?” Dale asked as he moved toward the door, wondering where his bathrobe had gone.  
  
“I don’t think so... good point,” Harry replied, relaxing.  
  
Dale opened the door to find Audrey standing there, looking anxious. “Hi,” she said, looking a little shy at the sight of Dale in his underwear. “Can I come in? I’m not supposed to be on this floor right now.”  
  
Dale stood aside, his sunken eyes going a bit wide at the sight of her. As she passed, he made a half-hearted effort to right his appearance, running a hand through his hair and glancing around for his robe, which was still nowhere in sight.  
  
“Oh... hi, Sheriff,” Audrey nervously greeted Harry when she saw him seated in the corner.  
  
“Audrey...” Harry replied, looking suspicious, “how did you get past the police cordon?”  
  
“Umm, I used the service elevator,” Audrey guiltily shrugged, “Nobody’s guarding it.”  
  
Dale glanced up apologetically at Harry as he pulled a flannel shirt out of his lower dresser drawer. When Harry just stared back at him with a look that seemed to say, ‘ _you handle it_ ,’ Dale slowly stood up and tugged the shirt over his bare arms, then turned to face Audrey as he started fastening the buttons. “This is a potential crime scene, Audrey,” he began, glancing up at her briefly before refocusing on his shirt buttons. “What’s so important that you needed to sneak past the barricade?”  
  
“Well, there’s not really a ‘barricade,’ so much as one deputy wandering around on the stairwell and another guy running the main elevator...” Audrey demurred. When Dale looked up at her expecting a better explanation, she scanned his face with uncertainty before continuing, in a softer voice, “I just wanted to check on you.”  
  
Dale swallowed, looking down briefly before quietly replying, “I’m fine. Thank you.”  
  
Audrey glanced at the Sheriff again, looking conflicted. “I sent up some coffee and pie, earlier; I told the baker to make sure she set aside a slice of cherry before the other guests could finish it all, just in case.”  
  
“Yes, I got it. Thank you, that was considerate of you.”  
  
Audrey regarded Dale curiously, wondering if he was acting strange because the Sheriff was behind him, or if it was something else. She hoped it was the former.  
  
“Are you sure you’re all right? Do you need more coffee or anything?” Audrey tried, knowing how much the man loved coffee.  
  
“Audrey, I’m fine, really,” Dale assured her. “You shouldn’t be up here until this floor is cleared for regular traffic.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll come back later then,” Audrey agreed.  
  
Dale stifled a sigh: that wasn’t what he’d meant.  
  
“Bye, Sheriff,” Audrey offered with a small wave, then looked at Dale inquisitively again before mouthing a faint ‘bye.’  
  
Dale gestured toward the door, trying to ignore the instinct to be charming and opting instead for a somewhat constipated, aloof detachment. It didn’t suit him at all.  
  
Audrey looked back at him and met his eyes for a brief moment before he closed the door behind her. What she saw in that instant made her heart twist. Behind the stolid front that he was putting on was a fearfulness; a definite vulnerability tinged with something else that she couldn’t consciously identify, though her heart recognized it as a gentle longing for something that he thought he couldn’t have. The subtext of what she saw in that look hit her hard, and she walked back toward the service elevator feeling an uncomfortable mix of emotions that almost made her want to cry for reasons she didn’t understand. She chalked it up to another side effect of her intense crush on the difficult man, which wasn’t wholly untrue. Her crush was powerful, leaving her emotionally raw and especially sensitive to the subtle signals Dale was unconsciously providing, whether or not she comprehended them in their entirety. All she knew for certain was how much she wanted to be close to him, and how deeply she wished for him to want the same thing. If there was any way to make that happen, she was determined to find it.  
  
Though Harry was curious about the exchange that he’d just witnessed, Dale turned back to him with an expression that clearly meant ‘ _don’t even say it_.’ Apparently the topic of Audrey Horne was a sensitive one at the moment. He decided to put it off for another time.  
  
“Well, I guess I should be getting back to work,” Harry groaned. “I can’t hide in here all day. There’s going to be a lot of people wanting answers.”  
  
“I’m sorry about Mr. Milford, Harry,” Dale commiserated. “Tough break.”  
  
“For me, or for him?” Harry joked. “We can at least assume that he went out doing what he loved... or _who_ he loved. If I’m overrun by the crowd out there in my current condition, I might not make it out alive.”  
  
“Do you want me to walk you out?” Dale offered, though he had no desire to leave his hotel room so soon.  
  
“Nah. Thanks, but you really don’t look much better than I do... worse, maybe,” Harry teased as he pulled himself up from his seat.  
  
Another knock at the door made both men flinch.  
  
“If that’s Audrey again, maybe she can help me sneak past the crowd in the lobby,” Harry muttered, only half-joking.  
  
Dale opened the door cautiously, relieved to find Deputy Hawk Hill on the other side.  
  
“You don’t look so good,” Hawk observed.  
  
“So I’ve heard,” Dale retorted.  
  
“I saw Harry go in, I just wanted to ask him if it’s alright for me to escort Lana back to the station for further questioning; she says that being in the hotel is making her uncomfortable.”  
  
“I’m heading back there, now,” Harry called out, finishing his glass of water before joining Hawk in the doorway. “She could ride with me if she likes.”  
  
“Hmm. Actually,” Hawk started, “I think she might feel better riding in my truck. In fact, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you probably shouldn’t even be driving at all right now.”  
  
“I can drive,” Harry insisted, “I’m just hungover.”  
  
“Well, it might... smell better... in my truck,” Hawk suggested, as delicately as he could manage.  
  
Harry paused a moment before conceding that the point was fair. “Fine. I’ll meet you there. I’ll see you later, Coop.”  
  
“Later, Harry,” Dale waved.  
  
“Oh, Cooper– by the way,” Hawk mentioned, turning to face Dale, “I spoke with Irene Littlehorse yesterday—she’s the local real estate agent I was telling you about—and she said she’d be happy to show you some places. She’s free this afternoon if you want to meet her at the station.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Dale agreed, “I’ll head over there in a couple hours.”  
  
Hawk nodded, then turned back to rejoin the widow down the hallway before Andy got a chance to offer her a ride.  
  
Dale closed the door, wanting to take a shower but afraid of the state his bathroom was in after Harry had been there. He thought about putting in a call to housekeeping, but when he imagined Audrey showing up with a bucket of cleaning supplies and dressed as a French maid, he decided that a little stray vomit was really nothing to be scared of.

* * *

  
  
After fielding endless questions from concerned guests in the lobby, Audrey barely managed to catch up with Bobby on his way out of Ben’s office. She noticed that he was carrying a leather bag, now, which she took as a good sign.  
  
“Well?” She asked, falling into step beside him as he made his way down the hallway, “Did Daddy have a change of heart?”  
  
“Audrey,” Bobby sighed, lowering his voice as he slowed down to speak with her confidentially, “I think ‘Daddy’ needs his head examined. What’s with that pile of junk on his desk?? And he kept going on about skyscrapers... it was weird.”  
  
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Audrey complained, getting impatient, “What’s in the bag?”  
  
“Oh yeah, he gave me this,” Bobby smiled, pulling the camera out of the bag to show her. “He wants me to follow Hank Jennings around with it. Aaaand, he’s putting me on the payroll.”  
  
“Bobby,” Audrey smiled, tugging at his arm with a playful, congratulatory shake, “you junior achiever, you...”  
  
“Yep. So... whaddya say?” Bobby leered, leaning into her touch, “Wanna help me celebrate, later?”  
  
“I’ve got a better idea,” Audrey countered, releasing him to stand her ground, arms crossed.  
  
“Tell.”  
  
“Take me with you. I know what to look for; I can make sure that those photos are worthwhile... that Daddy knows you’re someone he can rely on.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Bobby asked, leaning within kissing range of Audrey’s face to speak to her in a seductive tone, “I like the way you think.”  
  
“So long as you don’t think this is anything more than a _business arrangement_ ,” Audrey reminded him, smoothly dodging his advances, “then I think we might make a great team.”  
  
“You sure you can come along?” Bobby asked, looking puzzled, “Don’t you, like, have a job, here?”  
  
“This place is a total mad house today,” Audrey shrugged. “If anyone even notices that I’m missing, I’m sure I can come up with some sort of explanation. This is more important anyway.”  
  
“If you say so. But, hey— we’re going to have to keep a low profile, alright? If Hank realizes that he’s being followed, we could get into bigger trouble than you’d be in for playing hookie, you know?”  
  
“Trust me, Bobby,” Audrey assured him, “I’m better at this than you might think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be longer, but the second part is taking too long to sort out! Hopefully it will follow soon...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 8/8/17

“Do you have somewhere better to be?” Norma asked her husband when she noticed him checking his watch for the third time that afternoon.  
  
Hank looked up at his too-perceptive wife, his momentarily annoyed face transforming easily into a facade of innocence. “Actually, I’m waiting for Ernie. He’s supposed to meet me soon; we’re going to pick up the head of that buck he shot from the taxidermist and try to get it shipped back to Seattle.”  
  
“That’s a two-man job?” Norma asked, skeptical of Hank’s story.  
  
“It was a big buck,” Hank shrugged as he busied himself filling the bus tub with dirty dishes. “And you know that Ernie doesn’t know his way around. I thought I’d help him out. Isn’t that what family’s all about? Helping each other out?” Hank smiled as he lifted the tub, backing toward the kitchen.  
  
Norma gave him a fake smile as she watched him retreat, wondering what kind of scheme the man was up to, this time. Knowing Hank, it couldn’t be anything good.  
  
She turned toward the front door as she heard someone enter, her smile becoming genuine when she saw Audrey Horne standing in the entryway. Audrey was looking around the diner with a casual air about her, but not moving to take a seat. Norma quirked an eyebrow when she saw Audrey’s gaze pause at the kitchen window before her expression changed into something inscrutable; in the next moment she was backing out through the door and beckoning to someone in the parking lot. Norma watched her stand outside the door for a few beats before she was joined by Bobby Briggs, who was carrying a leather bag and looking like he didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention. Bobby followed Audrey into the diner and the pair settled into opposite sides of a discreet booth, whereupon they each took up a menu and became quietly engrossed in the usual selections. _Very curious_...  
  
Norma waited a couple minutes before approaching the odd couple. Audrey looked up at her with a warm smile, while Bobby barely glanced up from his menu. “Hi, Audrey,” Norma smiled back, “Bobby...”  
  
“Hey Norma,” Audrey greeted as Bobby offered a weak “hey.”  
  
“Are you ready to order, or do you two need some more time?” Norma asked, covertly studying Bobby.  
  
“I’ll just have a coke,” Audrey politely replied.  
  
“Same,” Bobby answered, still holding up his menu.  
  
“Two cokes,” Norma repeated, putting her superfluous notepad back in her apron pocket. “All right. So how’s Shelly doing?” Norma asked Bobby, “I haven’t heard from her lately.”  
  
“Oh, you know,” Bobby shrugged, tilting his menu down to reluctantly engage in conversation. “Leo’s a peach. It’s like having one of those Baby Alive dolls from the commercials to play with— only this one weighs about 200 pounds and spits.”  
  
“Well be sure to send her my love, will you?” Norma asked, “Let her know she’s missed around here. Customers are always asking about her.”  
  
“Will do,” Bobby replied, rudely staring at his menu.  
  
“Thanks,” Norma smiled, looking to Audrey with a sarcastic expression before turning away from the table.  
  
“ _Put your menu down,_ ” Audrey whispered harshly when Norma was out of hearing range. “You don’t need it anymore! You just look like a jerk!”  
  
_“I’m trying to blend in!”_ Bobby whispered back, shrugging defensively. “Where is he? Are you sure you saw him?”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure,” Audrey drawled. “He’s in the kitchen. Relax, okay? Just act like you’re here to waste time. We’re just two, young people out for some cokes and light conversation, all right?”  
  
“Yeah, I get it,” Bobby snapped. “I’m not exactly an amateur, you know.”  
  
“Could’ve fooled me,” Audrey quietly retorted as Norma approached with a coke in each hand.  
  
“Thanks Norma,” Audrey smiled.  
  
“Enjoy the cokes,” Norma smiled back, covering her suspicion with her well-practiced hospitality. It seemed to her that everyone was acting strange, today. _Something must be in the air..._  
  
After a few minutes of surreptitious bickering over who was better at being stealthy—during which Audrey learned that Bobby apparently knew how to pick locks and had an impressive list of places he’d broken into without getting caught—the pair noticed that someone else walked into the diner, causing Hank to finally emerge from the kitchen.  
  
“Ernie!” Hank called out, his greeting hiding a thinly-veiled displeasure, “What took you so long, man!”  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Ernie smiled nervously as Hank approached him, “my stomach lining isn’t what it used to be. Trust me, you don’t want any more details.”  
  
“We better get going,” Hank insisted, his eyes expressing the urgency of the situation as he untied his apron.  
  
“I’ll see you later, Norma,” Hank called to his wife.  
  
“Right. Don’t want to keep the taxidermist waiting,” Norma quipped.  
  
Hank’s eyes flashed angrily before he turned to her with an overly-friendly wave. As he followed Ernie out of the diner, Hank’s eyes met Audrey’s as he caught her looking at him. He gave her a small smirk and winked at her before he left. Audrey’s eyes narrowed as they followed him out the door.  
  
“Quick, get out some money for the cokes,” Audrey told Bobby in an undertone.  
  
“Why do I have to pay?” Bobby complained, “You’ve got more money than I do.”  
  
“I didn’t bring my purse,” Audrey snapped. “Hurry!”  
  
Bobby rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet, slamming a few bills on the tabletop before getting up to follow Audrey. Norma watched as the pair slipped out the door, returning to Bobby’s car with a brisk casualness that had her eyebrow quirking for a second time. _I really don’t want to know what that was all about_ , she thought with a sigh.

* * *

  
  
If Hank and Ernie were going to a taxidermist, it wasn’t the local place in town. Wherever they were headed was out in the country, on an old highway that didn’t see a lot of traffic these days. Bobby had been following Hank and Ernie at a distance, which Audrey kept insisting wasn’t distant enough.  
  
“I don’t want to lose them!” Bobby exclaimed.  
  
“You’re the one who told me we needed to keep a low profile,” Audrey reminded him. “Don’t blow this.”  
  
“I’m not going to ‘blow this,’ alright? I know what I’m doing!” Bobby huffed.  
  
After another tense five minutes driving along the old highway, Hank’s jeep finally slowed before turning onto a long, weedy driveway.  
  
“Keep going,” Audrey instructed, “we can park further up ahead. There’s plenty of tree coverage on the other side.”  
  
“I know, that’s what I was going to say,” Bobby muttered, gesturing with annoyance toward the road ahead with an upturned hand.  
  
Audrey kept her eyes on Hank’s jeep, watching as it slowly advanced along the bumpy old driveway. When they approached its entrance, Audrey glanced down the length of the driveway as they passed it: she could see an old house out in the distance, and maybe two other cars parked outside.  
  
“I think I see a couple cars down there,” Audrey told Bobby, “it looks like they’re meeting someone.”  
  
“We gotta get pictures of that,” Bobby replied, eyes wide. “Grab the camera bag.”  
  
“Got it,” Audrey said as she reached down for the bag at her feet while Bobby turned onto an old tractor road, hiding his car from the main highway.  
  
As soon as the car was parked the pair jumped into action, quietly closing the doors behind them as they headed out through an overgrown field toward the meeting place.  
  
“It should be just over that hill,” Audrey quietly told Bobby as she handed him the camera bag. Bobby nodded, and together they made their way up the gently sloping land toward the secret meeting at Dead Dog Farm.

* * *

   
“Are you sure you know how to work that thing?” Audrey asked in a hushed voice as the pair crouched on the hillside, just out of view.  
  
Bobby fumbled with the camera before peering through the viewer again, trying to adjust the lens to his satisfaction. “Give me a minute,” he mumbled.  
  
“We don’t have a minute,” Audrey urged, “c’mon; you have to get some more shots of those other two guys.”  
  
“Do you know who they are?” Bobby asked, squinting through the viewer as he focused on a telephone pole in the distance.  
  
“If you’d let me hold the camera, I could get a better view,” Audrey tried again. When Bobby ignored her to play with the lens some more, she hissed, _“This isn’t a student photography project, you know! Forget the artsy stuff, just get the shots we need!”_  
  
_“Fine,”_ Bobby relented, handing it over, “knock yourself out.”  
  
Audrey eagerly snatched the camera from Bobby and rolled onto her stomach, crawling up to the top of the hill to look down at the farm through the camera’s zoom lens. After a moment of adjusting, she let out a small gasp.  
  
“What is it?” Bobby asked over the sound of the shutter clicks.  
  
After taking a few more shots, Audrey slunk back down next to Bobby. She had a worried expression. “I recognize one of the other men.”  
  
“Yeah? And?”  
  
 “His name is Jean Renault, and he’s dangerous.”  
  
“How do you know him?” Bobby half-whispered as he rolled over to take another look at the men below.  
  
“He and I have history,” Audrey murmured. “It’s pretty twisted. That’s a story for another time, though.”  
  
“What, was he, like... your boyfriend, or something?” Bobby asked, trying to work out how Audrey would know one of the men Hank was conspiring with.  
  
“Definitely not,” Audrey replied, looking grossed out by the thought. “He’s a total creep.”  
  
“Well then he’s in the right place, I guess,” Bobby mused. “This _place_ gives me the creeps. I really hope we don’t have to hang around here much longer.”  
  
“It’s just an old farm,” Audrey said, trading places with Bobby to look down on the meeting again.  
  
“Yeah, well, I don’t like it here. I can’t explain it... it just feels like we shouldn’t be here.”  
  
“Maybe because we’re spying on a secret meeting between hardened criminals?” Audrey whispered.  
  
“No, it’s not that,” Bobby said, laying on his back and picking apart a weed he’d plucked from the ground. “It’s something else. Something... _sinister_ , about the place.”  
  
“You’ve been watching too many horror movies,” Audrey replied dismissively, focusing on the men below. After a couple minutes, the man she didn’t recognize got into the parked SUV.  
  
“I think they’re leaving,” Audrey whispered.  
  
“Finally.”  
  
Audrey watched Hank say something to Jean Renault before heading back toward his jeep with Ernie.  
  
“Hank and his buddy are getting into their car,” she murmured.  
  
“Okay then, let’s move,” Bobby replied, eager to be anywhere else.  
  
“I think we should follow Jean Renault,” Audrey said, sliding back down to face Bobby with a serious expression.  
  
“What? No— your dad asked me to follow _Hank_ , so that’s what I’m gonna do.”  
  
“We got all we needed on Hank,” Audrey insisted. “Listen: this is why I’m here, remember? I know what we really need to get, and I’m telling you that Renault is the bigger fish, here. If my father sees you taking initiative like this, he’s going to know that you’re someone he can count on.”  
  
“You sure?” Bobby asked. “I kind of have a lot riding on this.”  
  
“Trust me, Bobby,” Audrey assured him, “this is better. We should get moving.”  
  
Bobby swallowed past his doubts and nodded, deciding to take a chance on Audrey’s advice. _After all, she had gotten him this far_...  
  
As Bobby packed the camera back in the leather bag, Audrey looked out over the hill to check that the coast was clear. Expecting to see Renault getting into his sedan, she was puzzled when she watched him wait for the two cars to drive off before entering the farmhouse.  
  
“Hold on a minute,” Audrey said, “he’s not leaving.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Bobby asked, “What’s he doing?”  
  
“I don’t know, but he just went into the house.”  
  
Bobby crawled up beside her to see for himself. All he saw, though, was Renault’s sedan. “He went back in there, huh?” Bobby whispered. “Maybe he left something behind.”  
  
“Maybe...”  
  
The pair watched and waited for several minutes before Bobby said, “Maybe he’s waiting for someone else?”  
  
“Or maybe someone else is already in there with him,” Audrey guessed.  
  
“But there’s only one car left,” Bobby mentioned.  
  
“He was already here when we arrived,” Audrey countered, “We don’t know if there was anyone with him when he got here.”  
  
Bobby frowned, looking down at the farmhouse with frustration. “So, what; we just wait it out? What if he stays in there all day? We should’ve stuck with Hank; at least he was more interesting.”  
  
“We don’t know what’s going on in there, it might be more interesting than we realize,” Audrey argued. “We should try to get closer and find out what’s happening inside.”  
  
“No way,” Bobby replied, “you said yourself that the guy is dangerous. We should stay put.”  
  
Audrey frowned, silently conceding the point; but when another quarter of an hour had passed and Renault still hadn’t emerged, her restlessness was becoming unbearable.  
  
“I can’t take this, Bobby. I want to know what’s going on in there.”  
  
“ _We’re not going down there_ ,” Bobby insisted. “I’m not getting any closer to that place than I have to, alright?”  
  
“Fine, then you stay here,” Audrey told him. “I’ll go down and check it out.”  
  
“No! What if you get caught?? If your dad finds out I brought you here, I’m finished!”  
  
“I’m so touched by your concern for my safety,” Audrey sarcastically replied.  
  
“Audrey,” Bobby said in an earnest tone, gripping her arm, “I mean it. Just wait here, okay?”  
  
“Sorry, Bobby; you can stay here if you want, but I’m going down there,” Audrey told him, removing his hand from her arm.  
  
Bobby watched anxiously as Audrey slipped away from him, following the hillside down to approach the farmhouse from the far end. _At least she’ll have some tree coverage on that side_ , Bobby thought, though he wasn’t remotely comfortable with any of it.  
  
The hillside flattened out about forty yards from the farmhouse, in an area surrounded by a variety of deciduous trees and conifers. The whole ground was covered in red fir needles, and Audrey had to step carefully to soften the crackling sound under her footsteps as she made her way from tree to tree, crouching surreptitiously behind the thickest trunks along the way. Since there were fewer trees in front, she decided to make a wide circle to the back side of the house where the forest was most dense.  
  
There was a large lot behind the farmhouse where various discarded pieces of equipment were rusting away alongside cinder blocks, tall weeds and rotted wood pallets. The yard was surrounded by a wood that was more dense on the far side, which seemed to swallow up whatever light fell there. Tucked into the darkest shadows at the edge of the forest was an old woodshed with tall walls made from vertical rows of gnarled timber, and a steeply-slanted roof covered in ghostly, old-man’s-beard lichen. The entrance to the woodshed was an open passage with two pieces of wood meeting at a slightly acute angle just below the lintel, making the pitch black opening look sort of like a gaping mouth with two slanted, triangular black eyes above. Its menacing ambience made Audrey inclined to stay away from this structure, and she chose to approach the farmhouse from the side nearest to her despite having more open space to cross. She was beginning to sympathize with Bobby’s strange aversion to the place.  
  
When she reached the far corner of the farmhouse, Audrey slunk down beside a short set of steps leading up to a small back porch. Her heart was beating fast, and she took a moment to steady her breathing before she dared to move around the porch to the side wall. There was a window above her, but the back of the farmhouse was not level with the ground in the same manner as the front, making the window too high for her to see inside. She could, however, make out the muffled sound of a conversation happening in one of the front rooms. _There was definitely someone else inside with Renault._ As much as she strained to hear it, the conversation was too distant to make out anything coherent. All that she could identify was the fleeting sound of someone laughing darkly.  
  
Audrey wanted to move closer to the front of the house, but would have had to move around a large bush to reach the next window, which had no cover around it to hide behind. Realizing that moving there from where she was crouched would be too risky, she decided to try to find a better position by approaching from the other side. She backtracked to the porch steps and paused a moment before sneaking over to a water heater shed, then carefully made her way through the various debris that had accumulated in the yard over the years until she reached the opposite corner of the house’s rear. It was darker on this side of the lot, where the shadows from the neighboring woods swallowed half of the property. Though Audrey had more cover to use on this side, she somehow felt even more exposed; it was a tingly, uneasy felling, as if she were being watched.  
  
A soft rustling from the woods behind her startled her, and she froze, panick-eyed, in a crouching position beside a vacant garden box. It had sounded like movement, but not quite like the movement of animals or the rustling of leaves; the noise she heard had been duller, almost hollow. Audrey scanned the woods with nervous eyes as she listened for it again, but she could only hear the sound of her own breathing. She wanted very much to move away from that part of the property.  
  
Steeling herself, Audrey crept past the broken pottery and piles of salvaged bricks until she neared the front corner of the house. She peered out at the hill on the opposite side, and after a moment she was able to spot the top of Bobby’s head as he looked down from where they’d been staking out the place. She wondered if he could see her, yet. As soon as she rounded the corner, she knew that she would be pretty hard for him to miss. When she did move out into his line of sight, she unconsciously adjusted her posture and movements to reflect more of the lissom, ‘sexy secret agent’ persona she was channeling in order to pull off this risky stunt. Unbeknownst to her, Bobby—nervous as she was making him from his impotent vantage point—appreciated the show.  
  
Bobby’s momentary distraction was abruptly cut short by the sight and sound of the side door opening. _Shit!_ For a terrifying beat, Bobby was sure that someone had heard Audrey moving around and was coming out to find her. He slid down as low as he could while still being able to see what was happening: Audrey had frozen in place against the wall of the building, behind a small tree that was nowhere near large enough to conceal her from view. Meanwhile, two men were coming out of the farmhouse, looking around for a moment before walking toward the sedan parked in front. While their backs were turned, Audrey quickly retreated back to the side of the house before they could spot her. To Bobby’s great relief, neither man seemed to notice her before she was out of sight. Now they were getting into the sedan, with Renault approaching the driver’s side.  
  
_“Shit!”_ Bobby swore under his breath, realizing that he hadn’t thought to take a photo of the two men until that moment. He fumbled to retrieve the camera, but by the time he had it in place, the car was already backing into position to drive off. _“Shit! Shit! Shit!”_  
  
Bobby managed to snap a picture of the car before it drove off, but didn’t know how much of the second man—if at all—had been captured, with Renault in the driver’s seat.  As the car slowly advanced down the driveway, Bobby looked down to find Audrey crouched at the corner, signaling wildly to him. She seemed to be telling him to follow the car, waving to him and gesturing toward it as it drove off. _She wants me to leave her here?_ Bobby thought, conflicted over whether to stay or go. He knew he had to make up his mind quickly. _Well, if that’s what she wants_...  
  
Audrey watched Bobby wave at her briefly before disappearing behind the hill. _Where did he go?_ She had been trying to tell him to get a picture of the sedan while it drove off so that they’d have a record of the license place, since that seemed like the sort of information that Dale would find valuable. _Didn’t he understand what she meant?_  
  
After a few moments passed and Bobby hadn’t reemerged, Audrey’s blood went cold when she realized what had happened... _He’d left her behind!_  
  
_What was she supposed to do, now?? Where could she go?_ She was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dark woods and long stretches of open road. It would be miles before she reached someplace with a phone. _Was she supposed to just wait for him to come back for her? How long would that even be??_  
  
As she contemplated the idea of staying by herself in the creepy farmhouse—maybe even until after nightfall—Audrey wanted to cry. She couldn’t believe that Bobby would do such a cruel thing, _all for the sake of impressing her father!_ She didn’t know who she hated more in that moment: Bobby, or her father. Though she knew that her father hadn’t been directly responsible for the predicament she was in, he was still tangled up in it, just like he had been when she’d been taken hostage at One Eye’d Jack’s. Somehow, this was sort of his fault. _...At least a little bit._  
  
It took a good ten minutes of waiting by the side of the house before Audrey was certain that Bobby wasn’t coming back anytime soon. She decided to wait for an hour or so, and if he didn’t come back for her by then, she would try her luck walking the highway. Maybe she would hitch a ride back to town. Pushing her frustration and anxiety aside,  she figured that she might as well try to make use of her time there and explore the inside of the farmhouse in case there were any clues left behind.  
  
Audrey was unsurprised to find that the place didn’t look any better on the inside: the curtains were disintegrating with cigarette burns, the floor was strewn with leaves and clumps of dried mud, the spare furnishings were falling apart and the whole place smelled mustier than her uncle Jerry’s old camping trailer, which was really saying something. Aside from the dirty floor, there didn’t seem to be any traces of the men who’d just been inside the place. She’d been hoping to find the usual trimmings associated with crime dens: maps outlining smuggling routes, scattered bullet casings, maybe a couple photos of intended targets on the wall with red Xs through their faces. Something useful.  
  
_Maybe they’ve got everything hidden out of sight_ , Audrey figured, crossing the kitchen to check the cupboards. All she found, though, were cobwebs, some screws and a brass doorknob. She was just about to move on to the kitchen drawers when she noticed that there was some kind of white powder that had been unsuccessfully poured down the sink drain. It looked fresh. Though she suspected it could be cocaine—knowing Renault’s drug ties—she had no idea how to identify it as such. She dipped the tip of her finger in the substance and brought it to her nose to see if there was any scent to it, but couldn’t make out anything familiar. _Dale would know if it was cocaine_ , she thought, and set about looking for something she could use to carry a small sample of it in to show him. As she moved into the next room, she heard the sound of a car approaching on the driveway. She didn’t know whether to be delighted or terrified, hoping that it was just Bobby coming to pick her up.  
  
Audrey hid against the wall of the living room and turned just enough to see out the window as the car approached. To her great dismay, she saw that it was a tan-colored car that she didn’t recognize. _Maybe another criminal, late to the meeting?_  
  
In a panic, Audrey looked for somewhere to hide. Her options were limited, so she went into the room furthest to the back of the house, hoping that nobody would have any business back there. In the back bedroom there was a small closet, and Audrey quickly pushed past her fear of spiders to hide next to an old floor heater, shutting the closet door behind her. She was in complete darkness now, save for the small amount of light filtering in through the crack beneath the closet door. She heard the sound of two car doors shutting, and hoped that whoever had come to this creepy old place, now, wouldn’t stay for long.

* * *

  
“Well, its still standing,” Irene Littlehorse observed as she surveyed the dilapidated old property. “Almost by force of habit.”  
  
“Well, habit can provide a strong foundation,” Dale replied, looking out at the hill and meadow in the distance. “‘Dead Dog Farm,’ hmm?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s an old legend,” Irene recounted. “Of all the people in the world, the best and the worst are drawn to a dead dog. Most turn away. Only those with the purest of heart can feel its pain... and somewhere in between, the rest of us struggle.”  
  
Dale mulled over the explanation, trying to make sense of it. As he looked down at the ground, he was distracted by the sight of three different, fresh sets of tire tracks in the mud. His excellent knowledge of forensics allowed him to identify the three types of vehicles that had left behind such clear impression evidence.  
  
“Irene,” he asked, studying the patterns, “have you shown this property to anyone else recently?”  
  
“I don’t think anyone asked to see it this last year,” Irene replied, thinking back.  
  
“Hmm,” Dale murmured as Irene moved to stand beside him. Dale pointed at the tracks and recited: “three vehicles; a jeep, a four-wheeler, and a luxury sedan.”  
  
Irene shrugged, not knowing what to make of it.

* * *

  
Audrey listened as she heard the sounds of footsteps entering the house, and her heart began to thump in her chest. She felt trapped, stuck in a creepy, dark closet—probably surrounded by spiders—with two strangers in the house with her who were probably Very Bad Men, judging by the types who were known to frequent the place. As she listened to the very muffled tones of voices, she thought one of them sounded like they might be a woman. _Okay then, a Very Bad Man and Woman_ , she amended. _Maybe Jaques Renault was interviewing a new madam to replace Blackie_... If the new one was anything like the last, she wouldn’t be someone Audrey wanted to cross paths with.  
  
The longer Audrey waited in the closet, the more the darkness and confinement seemed to close in on her. Remembering her time with Blackie had Audrey’s mind reeling with harrowing, hazy memories and fearful paranoia as she imagined scenarios in which she was recaptured by Renault and his cruel, female minion; she could almost feel the needle piercing her skin all over again, and remembered the panic and helplessness that preceded the fall into another mindless, terrible bliss. Audrey had hated being high, and not just because she didn’t consent to it. She had hated the loss of control and the horror of not being able to trust her own mind. The physical sensations had been just as tormenting as they were rapturous, taking her to further and further heights of pleasure and terror in equal measure. The memory alone made her nauseous and sweaty. _What if it happens, again?_  
  
Audrey tried not to succumb to the panic, assuring herself that Dale wouldn’t let that happen to her again. If she disappeared, Bobby would tell the sheriff what had happened and Dale would come for her. _‘Like he came for me, before?’_ her overstressed memory reminded her. _How long would it take him, this time? How many days would she have to wait, worrying and praying for rescue?_  
  
Images of Renault and Blackie’s perversely smiling faces flashed through Audrey’s mind as she struggled not to hyperventilate. She could remember details so vividly that it almost felt like she was back in that room in One Eye’d Jack’s, strung out and clammy, her body craving nourishment beyond the cocktails and caramels they’d plied her with. She’d known that they had no intention of letting her live; that they were slowly drugging her to death, and that her only hope of survival was Special Agent Dale Cooper, who hadn’t shown up when she expected him to. She’d put all her faith in him; in the slowly deteriorating fantasy that at any given moment he would swoop her up into his arms and carry her away from that place. It had been the only thing keeping her from giving up hope.  
  
The more she thought about what had happened to her before, the more she feared what might happen next. She didn’t know who was in the house with her or what they’d do to her if they found her, and her traumatized mind was filling in those details with the most disturbing facts of her past experiences. The darkness and confined space of the closet was amplifying her fears and forcing her to retreat deeper into her troubled psyche, while another force—perhaps unique to that particular parcel of land—activated by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings and compounded by Bobby’s desertion—threatened to push her to the brink of her endurance. She didn’t know what was happening to her, and she couldn’t make it stop.

* * *

  
“More white powder,” Irene noted as Dale pulled out his wallet to retrieve a credit card.  
  
“Mmmhmm,” Dale replied, scooping some of the second powder from the chair. He had a feeling that this wouldn’t be more baby laxative.  
  
Irene watched as Dale licked the tip of his index finger, then pressed it into the residue on his credit card and lifted it to taste. He turned to her with a wide grin.  
  
“Cocaine. Irene, we have to notify the Sheriff.”  
  
“Gotcha. There’s a gas station a few miles north, we can use their phone.”  
  
“Okay. I’ll tell you what: how about you make that call— tell Sheriff Truman to meet me here. I’d like to wait for him.”  
  
“I can wait with you,” Irene offered, “I don’t have anywhere I need to be.”  
  
“I appreciate the offer, Irene,” Dale thanked her, “but this is a crime scene, and I’m guessing a significant one. It’s important that we keep it as pristine as possible, so I’ll wait outside until the Sheriff arrives. Don’t worry; Harry will give me a ride back to town.”  
  
“Well, if you’re sure,” Irene said, looking around nervously. “I know that I wouldn’t want to be left alone, here.”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Dale smiled, escorting Irene out to her car. “Thanks for your help.”  
  
“Do you still want to see the other places?” Irene asked before getting into her car.  
  
“Sure do!” Dale grinned, “I’ll be in touch.”  
  
Irene nodded, glad that a little cocaine hadn’t scared off her new client. She never expected that the guy would actually be interested in Dead Dog Farm, but figured that if he saw this place, first, the next two would look a lot nicer in comparison. She hoped that this accidental sales strategy would play to her advantage later on.  
  
Audrey listened to the sound of a car driving off, though it didn’t completely eradicate her anxiety. She thought that she had only heard a single car door shut. _Hadn’t she? What if someone was still out there?_  
  
She hoped that she had simply heard wrong, and that she could finally get out of that horrible closet -- but her paranoia wouldn’t abate. She decided to wait and listen awhile longer. _If someone was out there, they had to make a sound eventually_...

* * *

  
Dale wandered over the driveway, looking out at the old farmland and trying to imagine what it might have looked like when it was first developed. He pictured rows of crops neatly dividing the old meadow, and goats roaming the grassy hillside. Maybe there had been a barn, once, or a chicken coop. He imagined that he would like to have a chicken coop. “Coop’s Coop,” they’d call it. Fresh eggs; a rooster’s crow waking him every dawn. _Not a bad way to live_...  
  
Despite Irene’s misgivings, Dale didn’t think the property was half bad. He tried to picture what it might look like with some renovations and a hearty dose of confidence in its rehabilitation: a new roof, fresh paint, some basic landscaping...  
  
_There must be a decent-sized back yard,_ he guessed, wondering what he’d find around back. The abundance of trees on the property was a plus, and he checked out every one he passed, wanting to know what each was called. If he’d been carrying his tape recorder, he would have told Diane to remind him to pick up a book on tree identification.  
  
Rounding the back corner, Dale’s steps slowed as he entered the backyard lot. He was immediately distracted from his botanical musings by the sense of a strange presence; something was not quite right. As he stood still in the middle of the yard, the hairs on top of his arms tingled and the nerves in his teeth felt on edge, while his ears picked up a faint noise coming from an indeterminate direction that sounded like a kind of electrical buzzing. He scanned the perimeter, but couldn’t see anything that would account for the unusual sensations. When his eyes landed on the darkened wood shed, the buzzing seemed to get louder.  
  
Dale hesitated, wanting answers but feeling unaccountably repelled by the object of his inquiry. He forced himself forward to investigate. The nerves in his teeth jolted in protest.  
  
Before he could advance any further, the sound of someone knocking into something in the house behind him caught him by surprise. _Someone was still in the house!_

* * *

  
Audrey was sure that spiders had been crawling all over her. The moment she’d felt the creepy tickling sensation, she’d lost whatever little control she had left and burst out of the closet, knocking over the space heater in the process. She was already in tears by the time she’d freed herself from the unbearable confinement, wildly thrashing at her limbs and hair and barely stifling the heavy sobs that threatened to spill out at any moment.  
  
She’d been so engrossed in the effort to shake off the invisible spiders that she never heard the sound of someone coming through the back door, or that same someone cross through the laundry room into the living room—albeit in the manner of a highly-trained FBI Agent, which was almost soundless anyhow—and then stand against the wall outside the darkened, shuttered bedroom to momentarily assess the threat and prepare to ambush the suspect, who may or may not be armed. Given that this would-be FBI Agent was unarmed, himself, Audrey was completely unprepared for the defensive assault move he was about to use to physically restrain the suspect, and when upon busting through the doorway his first impression was that the suspect was taking a swipe at him (in fact, she was frantically trying to fling an unseen insect off her arm), Audrey didn’t even have a chance to scream as she felt someone grab her out-swung arm and wrest it behind her back while this surprise intruder used the full force of his weight to push her down onto the floor, knocking the air out of her lungs as he pressed down on top of her, shouting _“FREEZE! FBI!”_  
  
Dale had acted completely on impulse, reverting to the methods hammered into his brain and body memory from his extensive cadet training in order to neutralize the perceived threat. For all he knew, this person had been involved in the drug business that had recently taken place in that kitchen; maybe even involved in the plot to frame him. They might have been armed. He wasn’t, which made him more aggressive than he would have been, otherwise.  
  
Now, as he gripped the arm of the suspect and felt their body heaving beneath his, it became very apparent that he had attacked a woman. His grip relaxed and he shifted his body onto the floor, pulling back enough to get a better look. Dale’s breath caught when—in the murky light that filtered through the closed shutters—the woman turned enough for him to see a partial outline of her profile. _It can’t be_...  
  
Between her coughing and sobbing, Audrey was too distracted with trying to breathe to make sense of what had just happened. One moment, someone was trying to kill her; the next, that someone sounded a lot like Dale pretending that he was still in the FBI. Now he was releasing the death grip on her arm and touching her in a completely different way, gently rolling her onto her back and supporting her head as he sat up on his elbow to get a better look at who he’d just captured.  
  
_“Audrey???”_  
  
Audrey blinked the tears out of her eyes, still coughing between shuddering sobs as she focused on the man looking down on her. _Was it really him?_  
  
“Dale?” She managed to reply, “You came??”  
  
“Audrey...” Dale breathed, unbelieving, looking her over with concern and silently cursing his overreaction.  
  
“Did I hurt you?? Are you all right?” Dale worried, stroking Audrey’s hair off her face. _Was she crying because of him?_  
  
“I can’t believe it,” she gasped, her sobs turning into an expression of relief. “I prayed for you to come.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Dale asked, completely lost.  
  
In response, Audrey gripped Dale by the collar and pulled him down abruptly to plant a passionate, tear-soaked kiss on his unprepared lips. The kiss lingered for a moment before Audrey’s head lay back down on the floor, and she gazed up at Dale through wet lashes with a dreamy expression that only lasted a couple beats before it transformed into a soft laugh when she took in Dale’s utterly confused face.  
  
Dale didn’t know what was happening. He’d just tackled Audrey to the floor and then she’d kissed him, and now she was laughing and sobbing a little at the same time. Her lips had been soft and full against his and her eyes had sparkled when she withdrew from him, though that might have been from the tears. Dale had felt a rush of panic at the unexpected contact, but also a blooming warmth and a tightness in his chest that was asking for _more._  
  
Audrey seemed to be shivering—whether from nerves or from crying, he wasn’t sure—but Dale wanted to help her. He had only worn a puffer vest instead of a jacket, but—figuring that it was better than nothing—he unzipped it and set about wrapping Audrey in the awkward garment. She looked confused by the gesture, but obliged as he helped lift her to a sitting position and draped the quilted vest over her shoulders. She let out a broken laugh as she pushed her arms through the wide openings and looked down at the oversized vest, which felt like an absurd thing to be wearing. Dale laughed a little, too, when he saw how it looked.  
  
“Thanks,” Audrey smiled, looking up at him with affection and amusement.  
  
“How’s your arm?” Dale asked, reaching for the injured arm carefully, silently asking permission to touch her.  
  
Audrey offered the arm for Dale to examine, her lip quivering when he felt over the sorest spot for signs of a fracture. Dale noticed her discomfort, and felt a cold panic at the idea that he had caused her pain.  
  
“Audrey, I’m so sorry,” Dale apologized, soothing over the arm with the gentlest touch. “I had no idea...”  
  
“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here. I thought (* _sob_ *)... I thought...”  
  
Still hypersensitive from her panic attack, the very thought of her previous fears had Audrey holding back another bout of tears. Immediately sensing her distress, Dale moved to sit beside her, gently offering for her to lean into him with a soothing embrace. Audrey held onto him thankfully, resting her head beneath his chin as he calmed her with gentle shushing. His arms around her felt immensely comforting, and as her sobs tapered off she felt as if she could fall asleep with him holding her like that. She listened to the sound of his heart beating steadily in his chest and breathed in the now-familiar smell of him, and after a few minutes her anxieties had been replaced by total relaxation. Her only worry, now, was that she would eventually have to let go of him.  
  
Dale was incredibly curious about what Audrey had been doing, hiding by herself in a darkened room at Dead Dog Farm—and whether there was any connection to what he’d found in the kitchen, or to his own visit there that day—but something had clearly upset her, so he decided to put off his questions until she felt safe enough to answer them clearly. He was especially concerned with her well-being after how violently he had come upon her, and resolved to make sure that Doc Hayward took a better look at that arm. Now, as he held her against him and listened to her breathing steady out and felt the tension seep away from her, Dale felt the special tenderness that he’d always had for Audrey establish itself more firmly inside of him, like warm and fuzzy tendrils branching out from his heart, gently crowding out his concerns and reservations with more profound feelings of attachment and affection. Part of him knew that this should be worrying, but in that moment he was not inclined to care.  
  
The moment couldn’t last forever, though; eventually, Dale felt the need to break the silence.  
  
“Are you okay?” He gently asked, leaning back a little to look at her.  
  
“Uh huh,” Audrey sighed, reluctant to move.  
  
“Audrey?” Dale asked, gently rubbing her shoulder where he had been holding it. “Maybe we should get off of this floor...”  
  
Audrey opened her eyes a bit and softly twisted her fingers in the fabric of Dale’s shirt, answering him with a non-committal hum.  
  
Dale tried to interpret her response, but came up short. Apparently she was not inclined to move. He stayed in place, allowing her fingers to play lazily with his shirt while he looked down at her, marveling at the fact that she was even there, at all. He recalled the coin he’d flipped back at the Sheriff’s Station; how it had landed conspicuously on the Dead Dog Farm listing, which hadn’t even been one of the properties in consideration. It had felt like a sign, then, which seemed to be confirmed when he’d discovered the cocaine in the kitchen. Then he’d found Audrey there, too... _What did it all mean?_  
  
“Were you trying to arrest me or something?” Audrey suddenly spoke, her voice quietly reverberating against Dale’s chest.  
  
“Hmm?” Dale asked, distracted by his thoughts.  
  
“When you burst in here... why did you say ‘FBI’?”  
  
“Oh. It was instinctive,” Dale softly explained. “I probably shouldn’t have invoked the Bureau, though.”  
  
“Hmm. I won’t tell anybody,” Audrey promised. She didn’t see Dale smile at that.  
  
“But then... if you weren’t here to save me... why _are_ you here?” Audrey asked.  
  
“I was going to ask you the same question,” Dale replied, carefully adjusting his position to coax her into sitting up, so that they were facing each other. One hand still held on to her upper arm as he asked, “Did someone take you here?”  
  
“No... well, yes, but... I wasn’t kidnapped or anything, if that’s what you mean.”  
  
“Then how did you get here?”  
  
“Well... it’s kind of a long story...”  
  
“Well, Audrey— it doesn’t look like either of us are going anywhere else anytime soon. How about we get off this floor—go sit outside in the fresh air—and you tell me all about it?”  
  
“Okay...”  
  
“Yeah?” Dale encouraged, dropping his hand from her arm and preparing to stand.  
  
“Yeah,” Audrey smiled, wiping at the corner of her damp eyelashes. “It’s a deal.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 8/26/17*

  
“I don’t know where to start,” Audrey sighed.  
  
“In my experience, the beginning is as fine a place as any.”  
  
Audrey glanced up at Dale from her seat on the faded patio chair across from him, meeting his eyes. Dale was leaning forward in his chair with his elbows resting on his parted thighs, his hands lightly clasped in front of him. His body language clearly indicated that she had his full attention. She liked being in such a position, and wanted to milk it for all it was worth _...without being too obvious about it._  
  
“Well...” she started, looking down at the edge of her armrest and idly running a fingertip along the plastic, “I guess that means I should tell you about Bobby.”  
  
Audrey looked back up in time to see Dale’s open expression briefly cloud over. “What about him?” Dale asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.  
  
_What was that look?_ Audrey wondered. _Is he jealous or something?_  
  
Putting that very interesting theory to the test, Audrey continued, “Well, you know that he and I are friends...”  
  
Dale looked at Audrey steadily, waiting for her to continue. She couldn’t make heads or tails of his expression, so she elaborated, “...and he’s been helping me keep tabs on my father. My father hasn’t been... _all there_ , lately. In fact, his behavior lately has been making me worry about him.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Did you ever met my brother, Johnny?” Audrey asked.  
  
“I did, at Laura Palmer’s funeral.”  
  
“Oh yeah. Well, I hope you don’t hold this against me... but I think it’s safe to say that mental illness runs in my family. My mom has always been a basket case, even before my father started sleeping around on her. And my uncle Jerry... well, you’ve met him, haven’t you?”  
  
“I have,” Dale acknowledged.  
  
“Yeah. He’s pretty self-explanatory.” Audrey grew quiet for a moment as she thought about what she did and didn’t want to say, and Dale sensed her discomfort with the topic.  
  
“Audrey,” Dale said, his tone compassionate, “if you’re worried that I’ll think that any of what you’re telling me reflects poorly on you, _I don’t_. First off, mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, and second— even if your whole family was as nutty as you think they are,—and by the way, _thinking you might be the only sane person in your family is not an uncommon affliction_ — that still wouldn’t mean that anything was wrong with you. In fact, some of the most interesting, brilliant people have come from extraordinary circumstances, and they come out stronger and wiser because of them, not in spite of them.”  
  
“You think so?” Audrey smiled, touched by Dale’s words.  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
Audrey looked at the man across from her and became momentarily distracted by how beautiful he looked in the sunlight, with his dark hair taking on surprising depths of color, and the greener tones all lit up in his hazel eyes. The effects of his earlier hangover seemed to have vanished, and his skin retained his usual, youthful glow.  
  
“You were telling me about your father,” Dale prompted, when Audrey seemed to lose her train of thought.  
  
“Uh huh,” Audrey replied, trying to recall where she’d left off. “Yeah, so like I was saying, he’s been acting very strange lately, like he’s teetering on the edge of a total breakdown. I mean... he’s been making some questionable decisions, or not making them at all, which might be even worse. And I think he’s been sleeping in his office. I haven't seen him in the house in a few days, now, which is weird because it’s not like he has to go out of his way to get there, since it’s on to the hotel site... and I don’t think he’s having another affair, because he hasn’t been making any effort with his appearance.”  
  
“This is all because of the problems he’s had with the Ghostwood development project?” Dale asked.  
  
“That’s what set if off,” Audrey replied. “He kind of gave up after he was cleared of the murder charge; I guess being arrested hadn’t been great for business, and we both know that I’m partly to blame for that...”  
  
“You never did anything wrong,” Dale stressed. “The information that you provided was helpful in clearing up some parts of the case that hadn’t been fully explained. That’s a good thing. Solving Laura’s murder was in _everyone’s_ best interest, and your father’s arrest was a necessary part of the procedure.”  
  
“I know that, I do,” Audrey asserted, “—but I’m still his daughter, you know? There’s supposed to be a special bond between fathers and their daughters; a loyalty that means more than ‘necessary procedures,’ or anything like that.”  
  
“Do you think you would feel any better right now if you had kept what you found out a secret?” Dale tried.  
  
“I don’t know... but he wouldn’t have gone to jail because of me.”  
  
“Your father was arrested because of his personal history with a murder victim that he failed to disclose when questioned. Not because you were a bad daughter.”  
  
“But I wasn’t a great one,” Audrey argued.  
  
“Well, maybe Ben hasn’t been a ‘great’ father to you, lately. I don’t think that you owed him the kind of devotion that requires keeping important information from investigators, but that’s just my take,” Dale offered.  
  
“I know,” Audrey sighed, “You’re probably right. It just feels crummy, is all.”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“Well anyways... I was going to tell you about how Bobby got involved in all this.” Audrey watched as Dale’s expression took on that careful neutrality again before continuing, “He started coming around looking for work, trying to get my father to hire him.”  
  
“In the hotel?” Dale asked skeptically. He couldn’t picture Bobby Briggs working behind a concierge desk.  
  
“No, Bobby wanted my father to hire him for other jobs. He wanted to be, like, his ‘right hand man,’ or something.”  
  
“I see...”  
  
“Yeah. So after he struck out a couple times, I decided to step in and help him, because I wanted to know more about what was going on between my father and Jean Renault.”  
  
Dale’s neutral expression transformed into surprised confusion at the mention of Renault.  
  
“ _Renault?_ What business could your father possibly have with him?” Dale asked, finding it inconceivable that Ben Horne would have anything to do with the man who kidnapped and drugged his daughter.  
  
“... _I told you_ , remember? Renault is taking over One Eye’d Jack’s, whether my father likes it or not.”  
  
“You never told me this, Audrey,” Dale said with authority.  
  
“Uh, yeah, I did... during the wedding reception?”  
  
Dale’s face dropped. Oh.  
  
“...In the coat room?” Audrey hinted. _Was he blushing?_  
  
“I don’t have a perfect recollection of the events of that evening,” Dale admitted, looking at his now-tightly interlocked hands.  
  
Audrey unsuccessfully suppressed a smirk as she realized that he was, indeed, blushing. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she joked. “I thought you’d remember what I told you about Renault, though... You seemed very interested at the time.”  
  
“Could you remind me?” Dale asked, looking up at her apologetically.  
  
Audrey smiled warmly at him. “Sure. Well, I was looking for you because I’d just overheard my father having a conversation with Hank Jennings that I wanted to tell you about... and you were at the bar—well, the men’s room, actually, but I was at the bar waiting for you with the Sheriff and Big Ed—and we were _supposed_ to finally have the dance that you promised me, but—”  
  
“Audrey,” Dale interrupted, his head spinning, “...please just skip to the part where you tell me what you overheard.”  
  
“Okay... so I told you that I heard Hank tell my father that he wasn’t going to be working for my father anymore, because he was working for Jean Renault now, and he said that Renault was taking over One Eye’d Jack’s from now on. That was the gist of it.”  
  
Dale thought about what she was telling him, putting pieces together as he considered the implications of that arrangement.  
  
“Do you want to know what happened next?” Audrey offered innocently, though she was looking forward to seeing him squirm some more.  
  
“I don’t know... do I?” Dale demurred.  
  
Audrey openly smirked at that before she continued her recollections. “Well, you started to feel kind of woozy I guess, so I helped you get back to your room. We took the service elevator.”  
  
Dale didn’t know if he should derail the conversation at that point, but part of him did want to know what else he was missing.  
  
“And then when we got to your room, you only wanted _one thing_...” Audrey watched with satisfaction as Dale blanched before she filled in the intentional ambiguity: “...pie.”  
  
Dale softly exhaled the breath he’d been holding through his nose.  
  
“Yep — big surprise, huh?” Audrey laughed. “But there wasn’t any left; I called the kitchen and asked. So I went down to the break room and—”  
  
“You made me pop tarts,” Dale supplied. “With butter.”  
  
Audrey smiled wide with surprise. “Yeah, that’s right... you remember that part, huh?”  
  
Dale smiled awkwardly and shrugged.  
  
“Hmm. Well, do you remember what happened _after_ the pop tarts?” Audrey asked, carefully.  
  
Dale looked at her nervously and shook his head. Audrey considered her response for a  moment before deciding on what felt like the most prudent course of action, then shrugged her shoulders and nonchalantly explained, “Not much, aside from you getting really sleepy and babbling about some nonsense or other. I left after that.”  
  
Dale looked skeptical, but appreciated the easy out. He shuddered to think what he might have been ‘babbling’ about, but decided to drop it. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he offered.  
  
“Well, I’m not. We were having a good time, even if you can’t remember it.”  
  
“I don’t normally drink like that,” Dale admitted, rubbing his hands along his legs as he sat back in his chair. “In fact, I rarely drink at all.”  
  
“More of a ‘pie and coffee guy,’ huh?” Audrey joked.  
  
“That’s me.”  
  
“Good. Alcohol is overrated,” Audrey remarked.  
  
“You’re too young to start making those kind of statements,” Dale told her, “but I agree, anyway.”  
  
“I’m not so young that I haven’t experienced enough to make up my mind,” Audrey argued.  
  
“Nobody should make up their mind, at any age,” Cooper mused. “‘ _The open mind is the key to the open heart_.’”  
  
“...Is that how you see yourself?” Audrey wondered, “Open-minded and open-hearted?”  
  
“I think so, in a lot of ways,” Dale considered.  
  
“But not in all ways,” Audrey softly contested.  
  
Dale looked at Audrey steadily, knowing too well what she was implying.  
  
“Why don’t you tell me about how you ended up here,” Dale said, quietly changing the subject.  
  
Audrey regarded Dale with a kind of forlorn curiosity before she returned to the original topic, looking off into the air as she gathered her thoughts.  
  
“Okay... well, after I helped Bobby get a job working for my father, I told him to keep me in the loop about any business-related stuff... you know, in case there was anything going on that might be helpful to you, with the investigation and everything? And then today, my father gave Bobby a camera and told him to follow Hank Jennings around. I figured there might be a chance that he’d see something interesting, so I offered to go with him and help him.” When Audrey saw the face Dale was making in response to this, she said, “I know what you’re going to say, but for your information, it turns out that I’m actually not half bad at this, all right? First of all, Bobby isn’t that great at tailing... I had to keep telling him not to drive so fast. And if Bobby had been on his own, he wouldn’t have even known who Jean Renault was, and—”  
  
“Hold on,” Dale interrupted, holding up a hand to cut Audrey off and ask, “Jean Renault was here?”  
  
“Yes, that’s what I’m trying to tell you: the meeting Hank and his pal, Ernie, were having was with Jean Renault and another man with light hair and a mustache. The other man drove an SUV but I didn’t recognize him. Also, I think there’s cocaine in the kitchen sink.”  
  
Dale sat back with an open-mouthed, thoughtful expression as he connected more dots. “That was baby laxative,” he absently explained, “but there was cocaine residue on one of the kitchen chairs.”  
  
“Okay... that’s good news, right?” Audrey pressed, excited to be involved in the events that were unfolding. “Because now we’ve got proof that these men were colluding! And Bobby’s got photos of the whole thing!”  
  
“Where is Bobby?” Dale asked, suddenly realizing that there were still gaps in the story.  
  
“He ditched me,” Audrey replied, rolling her eyes. “I told him that we needed to follow Jean Renault, and that’s what he did. He was still over there on the hill when they took off; I was hiding by the side of the house, since I’d been trying to hear what was going on inside when Renault and the fifth man were in there talking after the others left.”  
  
“There was another man at the meeting?” Dale asked.  
  
“No, he was inside the whole time... at least, he was inside when we arrived, which was right after Hank and Ernie got here. I don’t know what happened before then, but Renault and the guy with the mustache were already here, and so was the other guy although he never came out the entire time. We didn’t realize he was there until after Hank, Ernie and the mustache guy left; then Renault went inside for awhile, and I went down to find out what he was doing in there. I heard him talking to someone, but I couldn’t hear what they said and I never saw what the other guy looked like. Maybe Bobby got some pictures of him when he was leaving.”  
  
“Audrey...” Dale started, “this is all very interesting, but I find it intensely troubling that you put yourself in such a risky situation in order to get this information. _What if Renault had caught you spying on him?_ You already know what that man is capable of,” Dale quietly warned her.  
  
“Yeah, I know... but I didn’t even know that we were going to see him, and then when we did, I knew that the opportunity was just too good to pass up... I mean, this could be the answer to your problems with your job, right?”  
  
“If what you’re telling me is true and there’s photos to back it up, then yes, you may have just saved my life,” Dale reluctantly admitted.  
  
Audrey smiled wide at that, which Dale found momentarily disarming. “So I did good?” she asked, eager for the approval that Dale felt obligated to deny her.  
  
“You helped me today, yes,” Dale started, then reached over to place a hand lightly on Audrey’s knee as he added, “but, Audrey: my problems are not yours to solve. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger again to help me, okay? Next time you think you might be on to something, come to me, first. Leave the detective work to the professionals.”  
  
“If I’d done that, you wouldn’t even know about Jean Renault’s part in all this,” Audrey argued.  
  
“But I’d know that you weren’t running around spying on dangerous men on my behalf,” Dale countered, “and that’s more important to me.”  
  
“More important than keeping your job? More important than being an FBI Agent?” Audrey rebutted, disbelieving. “More important than _going to prison?”_  
  
“Yes to all three,” Dale answered firmly, sitting up straight with his hands on his thighs.  
  
“You really don’t think I can handle myself?” Audrey asked, looking hurt. “You think I’m just a dumb little girl, playing at a game I’m not well-equipped enough to handle?”  
  
“That’s not what I mean,” Dale insisted, leaning forward. “All I’m trying to say is that these men are dangerous, which you already know, and that I don’t want you to get hurt because I care about what happens to you.”  
  
“Well, I care about what happens to you, too,” Audrey maintained, looking at Dale with stark earnestness. “I don’t want you to lose your job because of me, and I really don’t want you to go to prison because of it, either. You saved my life, _Agent Cooper_... why won’t you just let me return the favor?”  
  
Dale sighed, resting back into his chair with resignation. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He decided to take another approach, though it pained him to dredge up this particular part of his past.  
  
“Audrey, do you remember when I told you about the woman who died on my watch?”  
  
Audrey’s face softened with surprise at the sudden conversational shift before she carefully replied, “Yeah... the woman you loved?”  
  
“Her name was Caroline,” Dale continued, staring at his hands resting on his lap. “She was very important to me. I was supposed to keep her safe, but since I allowed myself to become distracted, she was killed. That was... I learned a difficult lesson when she died — well, a couple of them, actually. That was when I established my policy of never pursuing a relationship with anyone involved in a case I was working on, not only because of the emotional risk, but especially because of the potential risk to the person involved, if I’m not completely focused on the case. That’s the other lesson I learned: in order to do my job effectively, I can’t become too emotionally invested in the outcome. This isn’t an easy rule to enforce, but it’s a very critical aspect of being a good agent. When I’m working a case, I’m constantly aware of the necessity of maintaining proper focus and emotional detachment. It’s something I’ve learned to do after years of practice. So when you ask me if I don’t believe you’re ready to take on the demands of this kind of work and I tell you no, I don’t, it’s not based on any perceived deficiency on your part other than a complete lack of the kind of experience and expertise that I’ve only managed to learn by way of intense training and incredible hardship. Do you understand, now?”  
  
As Dale looked at her with imploring eyes, Audrey lost the will to argue any further. She knew that he had a point, but she also felt that he was determined to underestimate her.  
  
“I understand,” she conceded.  
  
Dale seemed to relax at that. “Good,” he smiled.  
  
Audrey studied him for a moment before she spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Audrey took another moment to choose her words carefully, then asked, “If Caroline hadn’t died, do you think everything would have worked out between the two of you?”  
  
Dale looked sideswiped by the question, swallowing nervously as he considered his reply. “Probably not,” he admitted, with some difficulty. “She... there was a complication... to our relationship.”  
  
When Dale didn’t look like he wanted to elaborate, Audrey prompted, “What, was she younger, too?”  
  
“No, it wasn’t that.”  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“She was married.”  
  
“Oh...”  
  
“To my partner, as a matter of fact.”  
  
Dale looked up at Audrey, his closed off expression seeming to challenge her to press further at her own risk.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?” Dale asked quietly, confused by her response.  
  
“I don’t think that you’re the kind of guy who would fall for a married woman that easily. You must have loved her very much.”  
  
“When two people have a special connection, regardless of their individual circumstances... it’s a lot easier than you’d think.”  
  
Dale glanced up at Audrey to find her regarding him with an expression that spoke volumes. He felt the impact of her unspoken meaning with a jolt; a hot streak of awareness coursing through him that was impossible to ignore, though he made a considerable effort to do so anyhow.  
  
“Tell me more about the fifth man,” Dale tried, knowing that his deflection was obvious.  
  
Audrey sensed Dale’s discomfort, and answered his question without anything more than a momentary glance at the sudden shift. “I never saw him. I think I heard him laughing at one point, but that could have been Renault. It wasn’t a nice laugh. They both left in an expensive-looking car; I think Renault was driving.”  
  
“The luxury sedan,” Dale nodded. “I saw the tracks out front when I arrived.”  
  
“How could you tell what kind of car it was?”  
  
“Tire tracks can be very revealing,” Dale told her. “The patterns they make can tell a lot about the kind of vehicle that left them, along with the size and depth of the impressions.”  
  
“That’s a neat trick,” Audrey smiled.  
  
“It’s not a trick, Audrey,” Dale lightly quipped, “—it’s part of my job; the special training I was telling you about. There are numerous aspects to being an FBI agent.”  
  
“Were you trained in a school or something? Like a classroom?”  
  
“Some lessons at the Academy did take place in a classroom environment, yes. I had to study all sorts of subjects: forensic science, which is how I learned to identify tire marks; law; ethics; interrogation; counterintelligence... then there were practical exercises where I learned things like defensive tactics and how to handle weapons; daytime and nighttime surveillance; how to perform undercover operations; acting out various real-life scenarios. Then there’s also the physical training, which is certainly not your average gym class.”  
  
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Audrey affirmed, imagining what Dale might’ve looked like in FBI-issue gym shorts.  
  
“It was.”  
  
“This was in Philadelphia?”  
  
“No, Quantico. Virginia. I went to college just outside of Philadelphia.”  
  
“Wait... I thought the Academy _was_ college...” Audrey said.  
  
“No, the FBI Academy was where I had to train to become an Agent; before that, I studied Philosophy and Political Science and minored in Psychology at Haverford college.”  
  
“Geeze... what are you, some kind of brainiac?” Audrey teased.  
  
“I was just an efficient student,” Dale smirked. “Double majoring isn’t that difficult if you know how to organize your schedule, and I was taking so many Psychology electives that I’d all but completed the minor requirements without even intending to. I just had to complete one more course to make it official.”  
  
“It sounds like you actually liked school,” Audrey observed.  
  
“I did like some of it... I had a few professors that made a pretty significant impact on my life, and I really enjoyed being exposed to new ideas and new ways of thinking. But there were also aspects of it that I didn’t care for.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Well, for one thing, I preferred being outdoors, and so all the time spent stuck in a classroom or hunched over books at the library started to get to me after awhile. I also didn’t like being on an all-male campus.”  
  
“There were no girls at your college?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“So... you went, what: four years? Without a girlfriend?” Audrey asked.  
  
“I said I was at an all-male campus,” Dale corrected, grinning, “I didn’t say that I never saw any girls. I had a couple girlfriends.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“There was a nearby women’s college, Bryn Mawr, that I’d visit from time to time. I met a girl named Andy there. Then a couple years later, I met my next girlfriend, Lena.”  
  
“So you dated Andy for two years, then?” Audrey asked.  
  
“Well, no... we only went out for a little while in the beginning, then parted ways for some time when she left the country. We reconnected briefly the following year, when she visited for a few weeks.”  
  
Dale looked uncomfortable with the history he was recalling, and Audrey wanted to find out why. “Was she foreign or something? Is that why she left the U.S.?”  
  
“No... she left because her husband was stationed in Holland.” At Audrey’s surprised expression, he explained, “I know. Well, I _didn’t_ know... not at first. She told me she was married after our second... encounter. I probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this,” Dale cringed.  
  
“Why not? I’m an adult,” Audrey asserted. “I want to hear more,” she prompted. “Tell me what happened with Lena; how long did you go out with her?”  
  
Dale hesitated, considering whether or not it was wise to divulge such personal history to Audrey. He already knew so much about her—details that he guessed few, if any, others knew—though he had no real knowledge of her romantic history, other than when she implied that she hadn’t let anyone touch her at One Eye’d Jack’s. Intuitively, Dale understood that Audrey was a virgin. He supposed that she was naturally curious about adult relationships, and Dale had always been opposed to the hyper-conservative, paradigmatic sexual repression of western society... _all forms of curiosity are healthy and should be encouraged, provided no harm results..._  
  
“Lena was my girlfriend during the summer before my sophomore year of college, though it was all very chaste. Not my decision. She had taken a vow of celibacy, but not for religious reasons. She... had some unresolved issues with her mother.” At Audrey’s confused expression, he elaborated, “I didn’t really understand it at first, either; then we went out to visit her mother one weekend and Lena told me the whole story, about how her mother had slept with her last boyfriend only hours after meeting him. At one point that evening her mother and I were alone together, and I did get the sense that she had some trouble with personal boundaries. Shortly after that, Lena and I took off suddenly and while we were driving, I noticed that her clothes smelled like gasoline... I pulled the car over and asked her about it; that’s when she let me know that she was ready to break her vow of celibacy.”  
  
“What??” Audrey asked with a laugh of disbelief, thoroughly engaged by the scandalous story Dale was telling.  
  
“Yep. Right then and there, on the side of the road next to a meadow where a bunch of cows were sleeping. We got so carried away that the parking brake slipped, and the car rolled down into the meadow, quickly gaining speed — I panicked, I thought we were going to crash into a tree or something, but luckily a big bull decided to run into _us_ ; one of his horns punctured my radiator.”  
  
“Oh no!” Audrey laughed.  
  
“I had to go wake the farmer up and ask to use his phone to call a mechanic; he was not happy about it. I still remember the look on his face when I tried to explain what I was doing on his doorstep at one in the morning.”  
  
“That’s incredible,” Audrey laughed. “So what about Lena? Did you find out why her clothes smelled like gasoline?”  
  
“I did, but not until days later when I received a call from her mother.”  
  
“Her mother?”  
  
“She called to inform me that Lena had been checked into a hospital to undergo psychiatric evaluation. Apparently, Lena had started a fire in her mother’s home just before she told me that we had to leave.”  
  
“Whoa...”  
  
“It was definitely a shocking revelation. She’d started it in the basement. Luckily the fire never spread to the stairs, which she’d soaked in gasoline; her mother smelled the smoke and was able to contain it with a fire extinguisher. The fire department investigated and told her that it had been a very close call.”  
  
“Do you know what happened to her after that?” Audrey asked, finding it very interesting that Dale had a history of dating women with mental issues and women who weren’t technically available to him.  
  
“I visited her at the hospital a couple days after she was admitted, as soon as she was allowed visitors. It was strange, though: for some reason she had no idea who I was. When I realized that I was only making things worse by confusing her, I left. I didn’t see her again until after her release, but even then she still wasn’t all there; she said that she recognized me, but I think she was just pretending because she kept calling me Todd. Her brother’s name was Todd. She got married the following Christmas, to her high school sweetheart. She wrote me a letter telling me all about it; she sounded happy.”  
  
“What about you?” Audrey asked, “Were you hurt?”  
  
“Not about her marriage — I was glad that she was being taken care of. But after I left the hospital that day, I had a sort of small-scale identity crisis... It was definitely surreal, finding out that the person you thought you loved had this whole other side to them that was nothing like the person you thought they were, and then having them lose all memory of you, as if everything you did together and said to each other never happened, and you never even existed. That following semester, I took a bunch of Psychology classes to try and understand it all.”  
  
“Did it help?”  
  
“I learned a lot, but some questions can just never be fully answered.”  
  
“Wow,” Audrey breathed, looking thoughtful. “And here I was thinking that _I_ might be too crazy for you,” she smirked.  
  
“No, Audrey, you’re just right,” Dale smiled, the words coming out before he could rephrase them properly. “I mean—”  
  
“Don’t,” Audrey interrupted him, enjoying the butterflies fluttering inside from Dale’s inadvertent slip. She didn’t want him to ruin it with some qualifying afterthought. “I know.”  
  
Dale looked back at her inquisitively, wondering what it was that she thought she knew. He had only meant to reiterate that there was nothing wrong with her; that she possessed an ideal balance of semi-mature rationality and carefree, youthful spontaneity. If it also happened to be true that these characteristics of hers provided what might be considered a perfect compliment to Dale’s own disposition, then, _well... that was entirely incidental..._  
  
“Were there any others?” Audrey asked, not meeting Dale’s eyes directly, “Aside from Andy, Lena and Caroline?”  
  
Dale hesitated, then remembered his decision to be open with her about his romantic history. _For her edification_... “Andy and Lena were my most significant relationships in college, and Caroline... I haven’t been with anyone since her.” Audrey studied Dale as he paused for a moment before continuing, “But there were others, a couple girls before college—one of whom I’d been in love with since I was fourteen—and one more after; the sister of a friend at the Academy, who I only agreed to go out with because he kept insisting that we were perfect for each other. We weren’t. After a few dates with her, I realized that my friend must not have known me as well as he thought he did.”  
  
“What was wrong with her?”  
  
“She was a nice enough girl, but she was completely obsessed with astrological birth charts. From the first date, she insisted that I provide her with a complete account of my birth details before we could go any further. I was intrigued, so I obliged; a week later she set up a second date, and brought along detailed charts that apparently described my complete history and potential compatibility with her own data. She wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the results, but was willing to give it a shot. We went out for a few weeks, but she kept analyzing our interactions in relation to planetary orientations, to the point that I couldn’t make any moves on her without her rejecting my advances, claiming that there were obstructing influences from mars that kept killing the mood.”  
  
Audrey smirked at that before asking, “So what made your friend think you were so perfect for each other?”  
  
“Well, that’s actually a funny story of its own. He and I had been out late after completing our first series of exams, and we went up to the roof of our dormitory with a few other guys to watch a meteor shower that was taking place that night. At one point, I saw something in the sky that can only be described as a U.F.O., being an object that I couldn’t identify—at least not as anything easily explained—which was flying.”  
  
“Really?” Audrey asked, skeptical, “You saw a U.F.O.?”  
  
“I don’t know what else to call it, but I definitely saw something. But when I tried to point it out to the others, they were too distracted by the meteor shower to pay attention before it flew off. When I described it to them, they were incredulous; we started discussing various theories about the phenomenon, and since I seemed to have the strongest interest in and understanding of those theories, my friend decided that I was a great match for his sister, who also had a particular interest in outer space. Natal charts and U.F.O.s were all the same to him.”  
  
“And they let this guy into the F.B.I.?” Audrey quipped. Dale smirked at that.  
  
“He had a background in medicine, so he became an Operational Medic. It’s actually a tough job, requiring a very specialized skill set.”  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
Dale grinned as he leaned back in his chair, considering the young woman across from him with newfound appreciation. He had always liked talking with Audrey, but was surprised by how easily he had divulged such personal background information. Now he was curious about her own romantic experiences, and decided there was no harm in asking.  
  
“Do you mind if I ask whether you’ve ever had a boyfriend?”  
  
Audrey looked surprised by the question, then turned shy. Dale already had his answer.  
  
“No, I don’t mind... actually, I’ve never really gone out with anyone.”  
  
“Nobody? What about secret crushes?” Dale tried.  
  
“Nobody _special_ ,” she replied, barely infusing her response with innuendo. “But I guess I did kind of have a thing for Robbie Forster... he was one of the lifeguards at the Pearl Lakes day camp, which is where I spent most of the summer just before starting High School. All the girls thought he was cute, but I was the only one who faked drowning to get him to rescue me. I faked it so good that I almost actually _did_ drown; I swallowed too much water and briefly lost consciousness. Then Robbie carried me over to the floating dock and performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on me, which I counted as my first kiss,” she grinned. “All the other girls were so jealous.”  
  
Dale shook his head, chuckling. “Somehow I can picture the scene perfectly,” he smiled.  
  
“And I guess there have been guys who’ve shown an interest from time to time, and maybe I let some of them think they might have a chance... but I never really could take any of them seriously enough to actually let anything happen. I don’t like the idea of having relationships just for the sake of the experience, you know? To be able to say, ‘great, now that’s over with’... one more box ticked off on a stupid list. I think it should be more meaningful than that... at the very least, it should be something you really want to happen, not just something you’re allowing to happen to you because you’re bored or lonely or whatever. I know it’s not the same for everybody, but that’s how I feel about it.”  
  
“I understand completely. And you know, there’s nothing wrong with having high standards,” Dale granted, looking at Audrey fondly. “But there is something to be said for being open to new experiences... Sometimes people can surprise you if you give them the chance.”  
  
Audrey smiled enigmatically, looking back at Dale with eyes full of light. “You think I have high standards, huh?”  
  
“Don’t you?” Dale asked.  
  
“Well, if being totally disinterested in everyone from your small town means having high standards, then I guess I do...”  
  
“One’s ‘standards’ generally refers to what you _want_ , not what you don’t want,” Dale pointed out.  
  
“Okay, so what do _you_ want, then?” Audrey asked. “What do you look for in another person?”  
  
Dale was taken aback, and answered somewhat coyly, “I don’t know that I _am_ looking... not currently.”  
  
Audrey frowned, wondering how long it had been since Caroline had been killed. “Well, if you were, then...” she amended. “What would your dream girl be like?”  
  
Dale thought about the question. “I don’t think I have an ideal in mind... I’m just attracted to women who have a certain presence; women who are kind... sensitive... both challenging and exciting.”  
  
“That could be a lot of people,” Audrey said.  
  
Dale thought for another moment before explaining, “When I meet someone I’m attracted to, something just clicks into place. There’s a sense of familiarity, but also a strong desire to know more about them; I get a kind of anticipation, as if something significant is about to happen. It all feels inevitable, but also fragile; I become hyperaware of my interactions with them, wanting to make the right moves at the right time, in accord with any fatalistic processes that might be at work. It all feels like it’s happening outside of myself, which is wondrous, and exciting, and a little frightening, too.”  
  
“Yeah,” Audrey sighed, having gone dreamy-eyed at Dale’s description, “I think I know what you mean.”  
  
“You do, huh?” Dale asked, smiling a little as he looked down at the ground.  
  
“I know what it feels like to meet someone who makes me feel something I’ve never felt before; something new and exciting and scary, but in a good way... like there’s more to life than I ever realized, and suddenly something I never even knew I wanted is right in front of me, but still out of reach... and _I want it so bad_ , like some part of me has woken up and is so _hungry_... it’s like I can feel my _soul_ crying out for it. It almost hurts, but even that feels good in a way. I _like_ it... I’ve found someone who makes me see the world in a new way; someone who makes me want to be a better person; who gives me a reason to try harder... and it’s all happening so fast that I can hardly remember who I was before; so much has changed so suddenly and it’s the biggest thrill of my life... it’s breathtaking, really...”  
  
Dale regarded Audrey steadily, hearing the truth of her words and finding them surprisingly moving despite the now-familiar twinge of anxiety that they provoked. He knew perfectly well that Audrey wasn’t referring to Robbie the lifeguard.  
  
“Those sound like pretty strong feelings, Audrey,” he gently replied.  
  
Audrey looked at him seriously and asked, “Were you expecting them to be anything less?”  
  
She’d caught him off-guard, again. “No... I suppose that everything would feel larger-than-life to a girl your age,” he mused. Though he hadn’t meant any offense, his reply apparently had stung based on the face Audrey was making, now.  
  
“To a girl _my age?”_ Audrey repeated, clearly insulted. “Is that supposed to mean that my feelings are less valid than an older woman’s?”  
  
“No, of course not—”  
  
“What, then? What else could you mean by that?”  
  
“I only meant that—in light of your lack of experience—anything new would understandably have a more powerful impact on you than it would, otherwise... that is, if you’d already experienced anything like it before.”  
  
“Okay... and that’s a bad thing?” Audrey asked, feeling more self-conscious than offended, now.  
  
“Not at all,” Dale assured her. “There’s nothing wrong with having those kinds of feelings. In fact, it’s very sweet.”  
  
Audrey still felt like he was patronizing her. “Maybe it has nothing to do with my age,” Audrey argued. “Maybe I just feel things more strongly than most people. Did you consider that?”  
  
“That’s a fair point,” Dale conceded.  
  
“I don’t know what you were like when you were my age, but if that’s your frame of reference, maybe you should remember that girls develop faster than boys do. That’s a fact. Physically, emotionally, sexually...”  
  
Dale swallowed thickly before replying, “You’re right. I’ve never been an eighteen year-old girl, and I can’t pretend to know what that’s like.”  
  
“You’ve never been _me_ ,” Audrey corrected. “We’re not all alike, you know.”  
  
Dale smiled apologetically at Audrey before quietly offering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.”  
  
A calm settled over the pair as Audrey’s pout softened, and Dale watched her sway her foot around on her dangling ankle, below her crossed legs. The motion was almost hypnotic, and soon his gaze wandered upward of its own volition, taking in the sprawling landscape of the feminine form sitting opposite him. It was undeniable that Audrey was fully developed. She often affected the posture and mannerisms of a sexually mature woman, which Dale found confusing. Her voice had an inherently seductive quality to it that was only amplified by the way her clever mouth formed her words. The first time Dale saw her—approaching him in the Great Northern dining room with an almost predatory confidence—he never would have guessed that she was so young. She carried herself like an older woman; like a woman who knew what she wanted, and how to get it. Her will was a force to be reckoned with, and Dale sometimes questioned the wisdom in opposing it.  
  
“You never told me what you were doing here,” Audrey spoke, rousing Dale from his wayward thoughts.  
  
“Ah, right... I was here with a real estate agent, actually. She was showing me the property when I found the cocaine in the kitchen.”  
  
“Showing you the property?” Audrey repeated, looking confused, “As in, to _live here_ or something?”  
  
“I’m interested in buying a home here,” Dale confided. “I think it would be a great place to settle down, someday.”  
  
“But what about your job in Philadelphia?” Audrey asked, uncertain how to feel about this unexpected news.  
  
“If I get reinstated, I would still be working there for awhile at least. It would be nice to take time off in Twin Peaks, and eventually, I would request a transfer to the Seattle office; they have a nearby resident agency in Bellingham, which would make for an easy enough commute.”  
  
“Wow, it sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” Audrey said.  
  
“It’s just an idea. I’ve grown very fond of this place since my arrival; the people, the scenery, the whole community... You know, when I was preparing to leave, there was something holding me back... I felt like I still had unfinished business here. I wasn’t comfortable with packing up so soon.”  
  
“Neither was I,” Audrey softly agreed.  
  
Dale smiled gently, replying, “I didn’t want to say goodbye to everyone I’ve befriended here, either. Of course that includes you.”  
  
Audrey darted her eyes up at Dale before looking back down at her hand in her lap. She was experiencing a lot of emotions at once: hope, doubtfulness, attachment, uncertainty, and an unattributable anxiety. Overwhelmed, she focused on something else. “Why did the real estate agent leave you here by yourself?” she asked.  
  
Dale noticed the small change in Audrey’s demeanor, and scrutinized her briefly before replying, “She went to call Sheriff Truman for me; I wanted to wait here for him. He should be arriving soon.”  
  
“Hmm.” Audrey stared down at her lap, and Dale wondered what she was thinking about so quietly. As she moved her arm to smooth out a fold in her skirt, Dale’s face filled with concern when he saw the redness on her skin where he’d restrained her. He reached across and touched her arm gently, wordlessly bidding her to turn it over for him to get a better look. Audrey allowed him to move the arm, watching as he gently took hold of her wrist with his right hand, holding the arm in place as he carefully traced the fingers of his left hand over the discolored marks. He knew that bruises would form there soon, and was sorry for it, but also felt some other emotion that was difficult to pinpoint; something about the idea of leaving marks on Audrey’s body felt very intimate, despite the repugnant violence behind it.  
  
“It doesn’t hurt,” Audrey lied, secretly relishing Dale’s hands on her even when his fingers skimmed over the sorest spots. In fact, the heightened response that those particular touches elicited was translating as pleasure, since Dale was the one touching her.  
  
As Dale lightly gripped Audrey’s wrist in his right hand, an irresistible curiosity compelled him to allow his thumb to graze her pulse point. While his other hand moved experimentally over her soft skin, he surreptitiously felt her heart rate, noting with secret satisfaction that the beats increased when he looked into her eyes and asked, “How does it feel when I press here?”  
  
Audrey swallowed as Dale applied pressure to her elbow joint, caught up in the intent gaze he had fixed on her. She’d been so distracted by the sensation of his hands on her and by the pull of his eyes that she forgot what he’d just asked her. “Huh?” she replied, when he seemed to be waiting for something.  
  
“Does this hurt?” Dale patiently asked, testing the joint again while noting the dilation of Audrey’s pupils.  
  
“No...”  
  
“Good. It’s not sprained, then.”  
  
Dale moved his hand away from Audrey’s elbow, lightly settling over the red marks again. He was staring absently at the spot, seemingly content to just trace over it idly with his fingertips, as if it was one place on her body that he was allowed to touch; a place that was his, now. Audrey was mesmerized by the gentle action, afraid that if she made any sudden movements or tried to speak, she might frighten him off. She was almost afraid to breathe.  
  
A moment later, the spell was broken by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Dale looked up at Audrey again before releasing her wrist, then stood to glance down the driveway.  
  
“That’s Harry,” he said. Audrey almost thought he sounded disappointed.  
  
Dale looked down at Audrey for a moment, then headed toward the driveway to greet the Sheriff. As the Bronco got closer, he realized that Hawk was driving — Harry was in the passenger’s seat.  
  
Dale greeted the men with a wave as the Bronco came to a stop. Harry still looked wrecked by his hangover.  
  
“Thanks for coming out,” Dale said to Hawk as the deputy climbed out of the driver’s seat.  
  
“Don’t mention it,” Hawk replied.  
  
“Is Harry still under the weather?” Dale asked, watching as Harry reluctantly moved to exit the Bronco.  
  
“I said _don’t mention it_ ,” Hawk stressed, with a warning.  
  
“It wasn’t my fault!” Harry grouched before pushing the passenger door shut.  
  
Dale looked to Hawk for an explanation, but the deputy only rolled his eyes.  
  
“They’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Harry continued, walking around the front of the car to meet the two others.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Dale asked.  
  
“Harry sideswiped Andy’s car,” Hawk informed Dale in an undertone.  
  
“I _didn’t sideswipe it_ ,” Harry insisted. “I just bumped it a little. He shouldn’t have parked so close to my spot!”  
  
“You hit a parked car?” Dale asked.  
  
“I _grazed_ it,” Harry corrected. “I was just parking where I normally do, in the same way I always pull in to that spot. Andy’s car has never been that far over before; I wasn’t expecting it to be in my way.”  
  
“We decided I should do the driving today,” Hawk murmured.  
  
“It _wasn’t a big deal_ ,” Harry slowly enunciated.  
  
“Well, I’m glad you’re here, anyway,” Dale said, getting down to business.  
  
“What have you got for us?” Harry asked, glad to change the subject.  
  
“Irene mentioned something about cocaine?” Hawk inquired.  
  
“Yep, there was cocaine residue on one of the kitchen chairs inside the house, and someone tried to pour baby laxative in the sink, but the water isn’t running. My guess is that they must’ve been cutting the product, and I’ll bet the stuff in the kitchen will be a match to the same drugs that were planted in my car. Also, take a look at these,” Dale continued, walking over a few feet to point out the tire tracks in the mud.  
  
“Three different sets,” Hawk noted.  
  
“Right. I’ve identified an SUV, a luxury sedan and a Jeep. Irene told me that she hasn’t taken anyone else out here in some time.”  
  
“So you think these tracks might help us find out who set you up?” Harry deduced.  
  
“It gets better,” Dale smiled, making Hawk and Harry’s eyes widen as they looked at him expectantly. Dale gestured for them to follow him toward the patio in front of the house.  
  
“What the...” Hawk breathed when he spotted Audrey Horne standing somewhat awkwardly in front of a patio chair with a men’s puffer vest draped over the back.  
  
“Hi,” she greeted with a nervous smile.  
  
Dale was smiling, too, in a kind of excited-but-guilty way. Harry looked at him with an expression that seemed to say, _are you kidding me?_  
  
“Audrey saw the men who met here and was able to identify three out of four of them: Hank Jennings, his friend, Ernie, and Jean Renault.”  
  
“You don’t say,” Harry murmured, looking at Audrey inquisitively.  
  
“There was a fifth man, too,” Audrey pointed out, “but I never got a good look at him.”  
  
“Where are they, now?” Hawk asked.  
  
“Hank and Ernie drove off in the Jeep," Audrey explained. "The other man—he had a mustache and sandy blonde hair—left just before they did in an SUV. Then Renault went into the house and met with the fifth man, who we didn’t know was in there until after the meeting between the others. Then they left together in the sedan.”  
  
“Who is ‘we’?” Harry asked, looking at Dale, “I thought you were here with Irene Littlehorse?”  
  
“I was,” Dale nodded. “She means Bobby Briggs. He and Audrey followed Hank out here and took some photos of the meeting that took place.”  
  
“What were you doing following Hank around?” Harry asked Audrey, troubled by the notion.  
  
“She was trying to help me,” Dale interjected, looking at Audrey in a way that neither she or Harry could interpret. “She felt responsible for my suspension and wanted to make it right. I’ve explained to her that she wasn’t at fault and that she can’t do this sort of thing again, and she understands.”  
  
Harry looked from Dale to Audrey again, knowing that there must be more to the story but satisfied enough with the short version for the time being. _Audrey, again..._  
  
“So where is Bobby, then?” Hawk asked, “You say he has photographs of the men who were here?”  
  
“He drove off,” Audrey answered, “he was following Renault and the other guy.”  
  
The three men looked at each other, their thoughts in unison. “We should alert the WSP,” Hawk asserted. Harry nodded, and Hawk went back to the Bronco to use the radio.  
  
“I don’t want him to get in trouble,” Audrey worried.  
  
“If Renault caught on to him, he already is,” Harry replied. “Do you know which way they went?”  
  
“No,” Audrey pouted, “I was hiding by the side of the house when they left.”  
  
“Well, let’s hope that we catch up with him before Jean Renault does,” Harry intoned. “I don’t want any more teenagers getting hurt.”  
  
Dale noticed Audrey’s expression sour at the word ‘teenager,’ and directed Harry toward the house. “Let me show you the kitchen.”  
  
“Hold on,” Harry said, moving toward the Bronco, “I’ll grab the camera and some evidence bags.”  
  
Dale nodded, staring after him for a moment before turning to regard Audrey. She was looking down the driveway with concern.  
  
“I’m sure that Bobby will be all right,” Dale quietly offered.  
  
Audrey turned toward Dale, reading his face with worried eyes. “I’m the one who said we should follow Renault,” she told him. “Bobby wouldn’t even have cared about him if I hadn’t insisted that he was more important than Hank.”  
  
Seeing Audrey distressed again made Dale’s heart twist, and he reached over to clasp her fingers in his, offering a comforting squeeze. Audrey’s sad face twisted into a small smirk at that, and she glanced down at their hands while Dale studied her face, contented that he’d made her smile. He gently released Audrey’s fingers as he saw Harry approaching again in his peripheral vision.  
  
“WSP troopers are on it,” Harry told him, glancing at Audrey as he handed Dale a camera. “Why don’t you get some shots of the tire tracks while Hawk and I bag some evidence. I want to be able to say that we did this the right way, so nobody can accuse you of any meddling.”  
  
“Good thinking, Harry,” Dale smiled.  
  
Audrey sat on the low, stone wall surrounding the patio and watched Dale take photographs. He worked meticulously, taking care to capture his shots from the best angle and to include wider shots for context. When he’d finished, he looked up to find Audrey watching him, perched on the edge of the stone wall in a cute pose that was too picturesque not to document. Dale pointed the camera at her and snapped a quick shot before she had a chance to rearrange herself. When he lowered the camera, they were both smiling.

* * *

  
  
The Bronco had a bench seat in the back that was only accessible by folding the front seat forward and climbing behind it. Dale let Audrey climb in, first, then followed her up onto the old leather seat. He felt around for a seatbelt, then frowned when he realized there weren’t any.  
  
Audrey had scooted over to make room for him when he climbed in behind her, but had been sure not to move over _too_ far. To her delight, Dale sat even nearer to her than she would have expected. When she shifted her legs so that they pointed in his direction, their knees would occasionally brush as the Bronco jostled over the bumpy road.  
  
“So apart from the drug conspiracies and stranded teen detectives, what did you think of Dead Dog Farm?” Harry asked, turning his head partially toward the back seat.  
  
“I think it has a lot of potential,” Dale replied, eliciting subdued chuckling from the other two men.  
  
“Irene must have been messing with you when she took you out here,” Hawk said.  
  
“Actually, it was my idea,” Dale explained. “There were two other properties I was interested in, and when I flipped a coin to decide which to check out first, it landed right on the listing for Dead Dog Farm. I had to see more.”  
  
“Hmm... sounds like you were supposed to find out about this place,” Hawk mused.  
  
“Irene told me a little about how it got the name, but I’m not all that clear on the meaning,” Dale mentioned, leaning forward. “She told me about a legend that tells how the best and worst people are drawn to a dead dog; about how some can feel its pain, while others struggle?”  
  
Hawk nodded, recognizing the legend. “Yes. I’ve heard it retold a couple times before. Did she tell you about the holy man and the village?”  
  
“No,” Dale replied, sounding interested, “please tell me more...”  
  
“Different variations exist. This is the way it was told to me,” Hawk began. “There was once a village here, and the people lived in a precarious relationship with nature. Their superstitions would sometimes get the better of them, and their shared fears would become so powerful that they would manifest the things they were afraid of. These things would not have happened if the people hadn’t brought them about by giving them so much power, through fear alone. One day a young man was leaving the village to go hunting, and on the outskirts he found the corpse of a dead dog. It was an ugly corpse that had decayed badly, with a very strong odor that made him sick to his stomach. He returned to the village and when his people saw him, they asked him why it was that he returned so quickly. He told them what he’d found, and that he thought it was a bad omen. When he described how bad the smell had been and how the corpse had looked, some of his people asked him to show it to them. Throughout the day the crowd grew larger, and soon most of the village had been out to see the dead dog and were talking about the bad omen at the edge of town. When a holy man from the village caught wind of this talk, he decided to see for himself before it got out of hand and the corpse became more than just a dead dog. Everyone was in a state of unrest when he arrived, convinced that misfortune was coming to them. They were holding their noses against the stench, and pointing at the rotted flesh and visible bones, commenting on how ugly it was. Then the holy man approached the dead dog, and everyone watched as he looked it over with a serene face, then said aloud, ‘Look at this beautiful creature; what perfect white teeth the Great Father has blessed it with! May we all be so fortunate.’ And then he walked away calmly, and the crowd lost interest in the corpse and went about their business without any further talk of its significance.”  
  
Dale smiled thoughtfully. “So the greater person will find grace and beauty where others see only woe and ugliness,” he concluded.  
  
“That is the message I took from it,” Hawk agreed.  
  
“Thank you for sharing that story,” Dale said. “Now I understand what Irene meant.”  
  
Hawk nodded, meeting Dale’s eyes in the rear view mirror. When he glanced back at the road, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a deer that had just sprung out of the underbrush and landed directly in the Bronco’s path.  
  
_“Whoa!”_ Harry shouted, _“Watch out!”_  
  
Hawk swerved to the left, tossing Audrey and Dale sideways as they slid along the slippery leather bench. Dale quickly wrapped one arm around Audrey as she landed on top of him, gripping the metal rod of the armrest with his other hand to steady them. The Bronco narrowly missed the deer as it bolted away on the other side of the road, but the movement had been so abrupt that Hawk struggled to compensate, and had to swerve violently to the right to readjust. As Audrey and Dale slid in the other direction, Dale’s grip on the armrest held firm and he managed to catch Audrey with his left arm before she flew against the opposite side of the vehicle. She clung to him, too terrified by the situation to fully appreciate the close proximity. It wasn’t until after they’d rolled into a ditch and came to a jerky stop that Audrey was able to begin to enjoy the feel of the man she was holding onto for dear life, whose muscles were taut from the strain of the endeavor.  
  
“Are you all right?” Dale asked, looking over the disheveled girl clinging to him.  
  
“I think so...” she replied, not knowing if her heart was beating so heavy because of what had just happened or because of how close Dale’s face was to hers.  
  
“Is anybody hurt?” Harry asked, twisting around to look at the backseat passengers, then experiencing the awkward sense that he was interrupting something.  
  
“We’re fine,” Dale replied, looking at Harry seriously as he asked, “What happened?”  
  
“There was a deer in the road,” Hawk answered. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“Good thing I wasn’t driving,” Harry said sarcastically, though he wasn’t convincing anybody that the opposite was true.  
  
“We’ve got a problem,” Hawk announced, trying and failing to restart the engine.  
  
“Better take a look,” Harry groaned, unbuckling his seat belt to get out and lift the hood. When he didn’t come back after a few beats, Hawk sighed heavily and got out to join him.  
  
Dale realized that he and Audrey hadn’t moved; he still had an arm wrapped snugly around her waist, and she had one arm around his back while the other rested on his chest as she held on to his shoulder. Dale let go of the arm rest, first.  
  
“That was a close one,” he said, and Audrey felt his warm breath on her face. Dale relaxed his grip on her waist.  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, pretending not to notice that her right breast was pressed against Dale’s side. Dale was perfectly aware of it.  
  
“Audrey,” Dale intoned, his voice unusually low. When she looked at him questioningly, he told her, “You can let go of me, now.”  
  
“Oh,” Audrey breathed, pretending that she hadn’t realized she was still holding on to him. Dale smiled gently as she released him, his hand still lingering at her waist.  
  
Suddenly Harry’s head popped into view. “We’ve got car trouble,” he announced. “We’re going to need a tow truck.”  
  
“Wonderful,” Dale replied.  
  
“Hey,” Audrey offered, “—at least it’s better than a dead deer, right?”  
  
Dale’s face broke into a grin as he looked at her. “I see you were paying attention to Hawk’s story,” he beamed.  
  
Harry looked at the pair of them smiling stupidly at each other and felt that his suspicions were confirmed. He tried the radio a couple times, but was picking up only static. “Uh oh... radio’s busted... I think the signal’s jammed,” he called out to Hawk.  
  
“The nearest place with a phone would be Franklin’s,” Hawk said from the front of the car, walking around to meet Harry at the passenger door.  
  
“That’s a few miles in the other direction,” Harry replied without enthusiasm. “One of us could walk there while the rest of us wait it out...”  
  
Hawk and Harry stared at each other for a beat. When it was clear that nobody was eager to volunteer, Hawk sighed. “I guess I’m going on a walk.”  
  
“If anybody passes by, try to flag them down,” Harry instructed. “Show your badge. I’ll do the same. Maybe we can get a lift into town. Leave a message with Lucy at the first opportunity.”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Dale asked from the backseat.  
  
“This car isn’t going anywhere anytime soon,” Harry told him, leaning on the door frame. “We either wait for someone to drive by and give us a lift, or we wait for Hawk to walk several miles back the other way to call for help.”  
  
“Damn,” Dale breathed, “tough break.”  
  
“Get cozy,” Harry joked, his tone hinting a slight edge of innuendo. As Harry pulled away to speak with Hawk, Dale realized that he hadn’t repositioned himself since his collision with Audrey, and they were still sitting close enough to each other that her right knee was resting on his lower thigh. Since there was hardly enough space for Dale to move away from her and no way to do so without making it awkward, he took another strategy.  
  
“I need to stretch,” he told her.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
As Audrey stared at Dale expectantly, he realized that awkwardness was unavoidable. He reached forward for the lever on the side of the passenger seat, struggling with it for a moment as it wouldn’t budge. He finally gave up with a short sigh. “It’s stuck,” he told Audrey, then reassessed the situation. “I’m going to climb around the other way,” he said, indicating the space between the two front seats. Audrey scooted over to the side, watching as Dale awkwardly climbed over the gear shift and onto the passenger seat before joining Harry outside.

As the two men talked, Audrey leaned back and watched Dale through the dusty window, trying to commit to memory every last detail of the way his body had felt against hers.

* * *

  
  
Bobby was already in a state when he saw Deputy Hawk Hill waving him down from the side of the road. The deputy was holding up his badge and walking out into the adjacent lane, and for a moment Bobby thought about speeding up and driving off. The compulsion to do so was white hot as he got closer, but even under the influence of the cocaine racing through him Bobby knew that the man would recognize him.  
  
_“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!”_  
  
Bobby slammed on the breaks at the very last minute, screeching to a halt a few feet away from Hawk, who was watching him with a curious expression. Bobby ran both hands through his hair, then stimmed his fingers anxiously over the steering wheel, trying to exorcise his nervous energy as the deputy approached the driver’s side window. Hawk tapped on the glass, and Bobby looked up at him with wide eyes before rolling it down.  
  
“Is there a problem, officer?” Bobby complained, trying to look more inconvenienced than nervous.  
  
Hawk regarded him steadily for a moment before leaning closer, bracing himself against the door frame. “Where have you been, Bobby Briggs?”  
  
Bobby gaped at the other man incredulously. “Uh, I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he tried.  
  
“Maybe it isn’t... but maybe it is,” Hawk cryptically replied. Bobby’s brow furrowed and he continued gaping at him.  
  
“Oooookay,” he said, his face and voice heavy with attitude.  
  
Hawk was looking at him speculatively. Eventually he asked, “Are you under the influence of any narcotics right now, Bobby?”  
  
Bobby’s eyes widened, giving him away. “No,” he retorted, feigning offense. Hawk stared at him with an expression that said he knew better.  
  
“Step out of the vehicle,” Hawk told him. Bobby stared him down for a moment, then rolled his eyes and reluctantly complied. _Shit_....  
  
“Are you going to tell me where the drugs are, or do you want me to pat you down and search the vehicle?” Hawk asked, hoping the younger man would make this easy for him.  
  
Bobby sighed heavily, then made a resigned face before gesturing toward the car. “Glove box.”  
  
Hawk nodded. “Okay. Get in.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Get in the passenger seat. I’m driving.”  
  
Bobby furrowed his brow in confusion, then looked around and realized that the deputy seemed to be on foot. “Where’s your truck?”  
  
“I’ll ask the questions today,” Hawk replied, gesturing for Bobby to get moving.  
  
Bobby huffed out an irritated breath, then went along with the strange plan. He watched with mounting disappointment as Hawk pulled the small bag of cocaine out of his glove box, then placed it in an evidence bag before pocketing it in his coat. _Just great._  
  
“Seat belt,” Hawk instructed, reaching for his own.

Hawk had stopped him just north of Dead Dog Farm, and as they approached the now familiar driveway, Bobby debated whether to say anything that might further implicate him in the complete mess he had wound up in. _He couldn’t leave Audrey hanging, though_...  
  
“Hey, we need to pull over here,” Bobby said, indicating the farm. “There’s somebody I’m supposed to pick up there. She’s got no other way to get home.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Hawk said.  
  
“Uh, did you hear me?” Bobby said, “She’s alone out there...”  
  
“Not anymore.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Are you ready to tell me where you’ve been?” Hawk tried again.  
  
“What’s your problem, man??” Bobby demanded. No response.  
  
They only drove a brief distance further in awkward silence before Bobby spotted the Bronco in the ditch up ahead; Sheriff Truman was leaning against the hood, chatting with a man that Bobby recognized as that FBI agent. When they saw the car approaching, the Sheriff pulled out his badge and held it aloft as he walked into the road. He lowered the badge when he recognized Hawk as the driver.  
  
“Hey!” Harry smiled as Hawk rolled down the window, “You found Bobby!”  
  
“Well, we sort of found each other,” Hawk admitted. “He hasn’t said anything about where he’s been, but he’s high on cocaine. This was in his glove box,” he said, pulling the evidence bag out to show Harry.  
  
Harry clucked with disappointment. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby...”  
  
“Is he all right?” Dale asked, peering into the car.  
  
“What’s all this about?” Bobby asked, completely confused and more than a little paranoid. When he saw Audrey Horne climb out of the Bronco and hurry over to the passenger side of the car with a concerned expression, he could only blink in bewilderment.  
  
Audrey opened the passenger door and knelt down to speak with Bobby. “Hey! Are you okay?? What happened?”  
  
“I’m fine... Audrey, what’s going on?” He asked.  
  
“Bobby, they know,” Audrey confided, “just tell them everything, okay? It’s going to be all right.”  
  
“I wouldn’t make that promise if I were you,” Hawk warned her. “He’s high.”  
  
Audrey looked at Bobby with surprise. “You took drugs? When?? Why??”  
  
“Shit...” Bobby swore, “I had to, all right? I can’t BELIEVE this... _what the hell is going on!!?”_  
  
“We can discuss everything down at the station,” Harry interjected. “In the mean time, we should get moving. Everybody in.”  
  
“Uh, you all aren’t going to fit in here,” Bobby said, indicating the limited seating of his Trans Am. “It’s just a four-seater.”  
  
“We’ll make due,” Harry insisted. “Out.”  
  
Bobby begrudgingly climbed out of the passenger seat of his own car while the Sheriff asserted his authority, pushing the passenger seat down to allow Bobby to climb in the back. There was no middle seat—just a hard divider between the two back seats—so Dale and Harry looked at each other for a moment before Harry said, “Somebody’s gotta sit on someone’s lap, and it isn’t going to be me.”  
  
Both men glanced at Audrey, who was waiting expectantly to be told to sit on Dale’s lap. Dale swallowed, then gestured for her to follow him as he climbed into the back seat. Audrey and the Sheriff exchanged a brief look where neither were exactly smiling before Audrey climbed in after Dale, happily settling in his lap before Harry repositioned the passenger seat. Bobby was slumped in his seat watching the whole scene with disbelief.  
  
“Am I allowed to smoke?” he asked.  
  
“No,” all three law men responded in unison.  
  
“Geeze...” Bobby complained in an undertone, “by all means, make yourselves comfortable.”  
  
Dale reached for his seatbelt out of habit, then reconsidered how that would work before abandoning the idea. Audrey was seated in his lap with her knees pointed toward the center of the car, her legs tucked against his left one, in between his. Most of her weight was on his right thigh, and her left arm was wrapped behind his shoulders. As the car took off, Dale’s left arm instinctively rose to secure Audrey around her waist. He noticed her suck in a small breath at the motion.  
  
Wanting to distract himself from the feel of the young woman in his lap, Dale tried to make conversation with Bobby.  
  
“I understand that you are in possession of some film which may be useful to us,” he prompted. “Where is the camera, Bobby?”  
  
Bobby looked at Dale with an irritated grimace. “She told you about that?”  
  
“It’s not like that, Bobby,” Audrey appealed. “Just answer his questions.”  
  
“What’s it like, then, Audrey?” Bobby objected. “I leave you alone at that place, and the next thing I know you’re hanging out with the Sheriff and this guy,” Bobby said with irritation, gesturing at Dale, “telling them all about what we’ve been up to... what YOU talked me into, by the way!”  
  
“Yeah, _you left me_ , all right!” Audrey retorted, “What the heck, Bobby Briggs? Was impressing my father so important that you thought you could just leave his only daughter to fend for herself in that creepy place?”  
  
“What are you talking about?? You TOLD me to go after Renault!” Bobby argued.  
  
“I didn’t mean without me!”  
  
“Then why did you wave at me to follow them?!”  
  
Audrey paused, realizing what had happened. “I was trying to tell you to get a shot of the license plate,” she whined.  
  
“Well how was I supposed to know _that?”_ Bobby protested. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about, anyway... looks like your pals showed up after I left. So, what: were you working with them the whole time? Was this some kind of set up?”  
  
“No, Bobby,” Audrey insisted, “Agent Cooper was only there to check out the property, lucky for me. When he found me, I had to explain what I was doing there... he found cocaine in the house.”  
  
“Audrey, that’s enough,” Dale warned, not wanting her to give away pertinent case details.  
  
“No, Bobby can help you,” Audrey insisted, “we all have to work together. He’s not part of this.”  
  
“Then what is he doing with a gram of cocaine in his car?” Harry interjected.  
  
“ _Uggghhh_... it’s not what you _think_ ,” Bobby insisted. “I didn’t even really want it. I haven’t touched the stuff since... since Laura.”  
  
“Could you tell us about it?” Dale prompted.  
  
Bobby ran a hand over his face. “Fine. Whatever. It doesn’t even matter, now. Everything’s so screwed up.”  
  
“What happened?” Audrey asked.  
  
“So... I followed Renault and that other guy, _like you asked me to_ , and they were driving along for awhile when all of a sudden their car just vanishes. Poof. Gone. I didn’t know what happened; I’d been hanging back and was sure they couldn’t see me, but I guess they noticed that I was following them because the next thing I know, I’m being ambushed. All of a sudden they were pulling out from this place on the side of the road and cutting me off; I was _this close_ to smashing into them... and then Renault gets out and points a frickin’ gun in my face and starts asking me all these questions. I really thought he was going to blow my brains out.”  
  
“Jesus,” Audrey breathed.  
  
“Yeah, so there I am, lying in the road begging him not to kill me, and I had to tell him _something_ so I said, ‘yeah, I was following you,’ and he wants to know why, so I tell him that I had been following Hank trying to find out who his supplier was, since Leo’s out of the game and I know there’s an open position to be filled, and I was looking for the right person to approach about it. He’s angry, telling me that he’s not somebody to mess with, and I’m telling him that I’m not messing with him — that I’m just thinking about my future, and that I saw an opportunity and I took it, that’s all... so he’s saying, ‘how do I know you’re not a cop?’ and I’m like, ‘seriously? me??’ but he’s not convinced, so I tell him that I used to deal for Leo, ‘ask me anything,’ I say, and he says that’s no good because Leo can’t vouch for me, and I say ‘tell me about it, I’ve been nursing that dead weight ever since he got shot,’ and now he’s interested because I’m close to Leo — who else would be spoon feeding him baby food, right? And he asks me if I like to party, and I said sure, why not, and he pulls out some coke and tosses it to me, so I snorted some in front of him. What choice did I have? And he sees that and now he’s relaxing. He says I can keep the bag. I say ‘now we’re talking.’ He asks to see my driver’s license and he writes some information down, asks for a number to reach me at, tells me he’ll be in touch. Then he just gets back in the car and drives off; I never even saw the other guy. And now I’m pissing myself because this asshole knows my name and where I live and everything, and I guess that I work for him now, or else he’s gonna have me killed or something. Who knows. So I drive back to get Audrey, and then Deputy Hill flags me down from the side of the road and I don’t know what the hell is going on... that’s the truth.”  
  
Harry had been turned toward Bobby throughout the story, and twisted further around to glance at Dale, now. Dale nodded, saying, “I believe him.”  
  
“Of course you do,” Audrey affirmed, “he’s telling the truth.” She turned back to Bobby with an apologetic face and said, “I’m so sorry that happened to you; I never would have suggested that we follow him if I knew something like this might happen.”  
  
“Yeah, well... like you said, I was trying to impress your father. Big mistake, I guess.”  
  
“Both of you were in over your heads,” Hawk chastised from the driver’s seat.  
  
“Well, we did find out a lot,” Audrey countered. “You’ve got the camera, right?”  
  
“It’s under the passenger seat,” Bobby pointed. “Good thing he never saw it, or I’d probably be dead.”  
  
Harry reached under his seat and pulled out the camera bag. “We’ll get these developed along with the roll from the farm,” he said.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Bobby muttered.  
  
“So you never saw the fifth man, then?” Harry asked Bobby.  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Would he be on any of the photographs you took?” Harry asked.  
  
“I dunno. Maybe. Probably not.”  
  
“It sure would help to know more about who was involved in all of this...” Harry added, “If your information helps us vindicate Special Agent Cooper, it would go a long way toward seeing you get off the hook, here.”  
  
“Special Agent Cooper?” Bobby repeated, squinting in confusion, “What’s he got to do with those guys?”  
  
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Dale replied.  
  
“You aren’t really going to punish Bobby for any of this, are you?” Audrey objected, “He was only helping me... maybe for selfish reasons of his own, but ultimately this was all about finding out who set up Dale!”  
  
Everyone’s eyebrows shot up at that.

"Who the hell is 'Dale'?" Bobby asked, annoyed that there was yet another plot twist in this disaster.

“That would be me, Bobby,” Dale replied after clearing his throat.  
  
“What??” Bobby huffed, glaring at Audrey, “ _Are you kidding me?_ This is what you meant by ‘a vested interest’ of yours?”  
  
“Bobby, shut up,” Audrey replied, rolling her eyes, “you’re making it worse...”  
  
“Oh, wow,” Bobby continued, looking over the couple next to him with sudden understanding, “I get it, now. Duh.”  
  
Audrey shot Bobby a warning glare, and he shook his head with incredulity.  
  
“You haven’t been charged with anything,” Dale interjected, “and considering that the drug use wasn’t exactly consensual, I don’t see any reason to penalize you for it as long as you continue to cooperate with law enforcement. Don’t you agree, Harry?”  
  
“Yeah. I’d be willing to let it slide,” Harry conceded. “But I _will_ expect your full cooperation, both now and in the future, however this thing develops.”  
  
“Fine. Whatever,” Bobby sighed.  
  
“See?” Audrey mock-whispered to Bobby, “I told you everything would be all right.” Bobby gave her a withering stare, then turned to look out his window with a small huff. He supposed he’d dodged a bullet where Audrey Horne was concerned; he had no interest in pursuing the girlfriend of an FBI agent, no matter how gorgeous she might be. He suddenly realized how much he missed Shelly, and wondered how she had been getting along by herself with Leo. _Maybe he’d swing by the cemetery and pick up some flowers for her, later_...

* * *

  
By the time Harry had finished questioning Bobby and Audrey and sorted out arrangements to have the car towed, it had started raining. Everyone was grateful that they’d made it back to town when they did, Hawk most especially.  
  
“Looks like we’re getting a thunderstorm tonight,” Harry told Dale as he stepped into his office. “It’s supposed to be a big one.”  
  
“I look forward to it,” Dale smiled. “I love a good thunderstorm. Nothing beats the tranquility of being safe indoors somewhere, warm and comfortable while the world outside roars and patters against the windows. Add to that a hot cup of coffee and a big slice of pie... it never tastes better!”  
  
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Harry smiled. “I’m going to go meet Big Ed at the Gas Farm; I let Bobby go, and Audrey’s waiting at the front desk. She says she doesn’t want to bother getting her arm checked out.”  
  
Dale sighed. “Well, if there’s any swelling, I’m going to have to insist.”  
  
“It looked all right to me,” Harry said. “I’m sure she’s fine. Listen; I was going to get one of the guys to take her back to the Great Northern, but I figured if you were heading that way...”  
  
Dale held up a hand and replied, “I’ve got it, Harry. I just spoke with Denise and she’s going to get a full background check on Hank and Ernie, and she’ll be having those samples analyzed first thing tomorrow; she agrees that this is great news.”  
  
“Good. I’m getting those photos developed as we speak; hopefully they’ll show us something we don’t already know, which is certainly enough to start on.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Well, I’m heading out,” Harry said, patting Dale on the back. “Get some sleep, huh? You’ve earned it.”  
  
“Same to you,” Dale smiled. “Thanks for all your help, Harry.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Dale followed Harry into the lobby, where he found Audrey leaning across the arm of a chair beside the coffee machine, flipping through a small selection of tea packets with a bored expression. She perked up considerably when she saw him.  
  
“See you, Coop,” Harry grinned, then nodded at Audrey. “’Night, Audrey.”  
  
“Bye, Sheriff,” Audrey smiled, rising to meet Dale in front of the reception desk.  
  
“Drive safely, Harry” Dale replied, watching as Harry glanced back at him with a ‘ha, ha’ expression, then secured his hat and raised his collar before heading out into the rain.  
  
Dale looked down at Audrey.  
  
“Can we go, now?” she asked, “I’m starving.”  
  
“Me too,” Dale agreed. “I’ve been thinking about Norma’s chicken parmesan for the last couple hours.”  
  
Audrey laughed as Dale’s stomach let out a grumble. “That sounds great; want to get it to go, though? I’m still covered in dust and cobwebs and fir needles.”  
  
“Good idea,” Dale smiled. “I’ll go pull the car up; meet me out front.”  
  
“Okay,” Audrey nodded, watching Dale trot out into the rain toward the parking lot. The sky was already dark from the storm clouds, and the sun would soon drop below the horizon. Meanwhile the clouds in the western sky were turning deep shades of purple.  
  
Audrey hurried over to the car as soon as Dale pulled up; he’d leaned over to open the passenger door for her, and a moment later she was sliding onto the damp seat and quickly closing the door behind her. She glanced up at Dale as she fastened her seat belt, and smirked when she saw wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead.  
  
It was fully dark by the time they parked outside the Double R Diner, and Audrey told Dale what she wanted (waffles with whipped cream and strawberry syrup) so she could stay dry while he ran in to place the order. The rain was coming down heavier, now, and Audrey rested her head back against the seat to watch the water stream down the window glass, blurring the lights from the diner windows and the glow of the Double R sign. The air grew humid in the car while she waited as the temperature continued to drop outside, and the windows slowly began to fog over. After awhile the fog had spread higher on her passenger window, blocking out her vision except for inside the lines of the same heart shape that she’d drawn with her finger the day before. She smiled when she saw that it was still there, and reached up to wipe away all the fog inside the heart lines with the pad of her finger, making a small heart-shaped window in the fogged-over glass. Through the space she’d cleared, she could now see Dale jogging toward the car with a takeaway bag.  
  
Cold air and the smell of wet asphalt and ozone hit her when Dale opened the door, followed by the smell of sweet waffles mingled with Norma’s chicken parmesan when he handed her the bag of food. It was warm on her lap and she held it gratefully.    
  
On the drive up to the Great Northern, Audrey relaxed against her seat as Dale told her all about the time he’d spent the night in his treehouse during a bad thunderstorm when he was twelve years old, just to prove that he wasn’t afraid of thunder and lightning. He’d had to divert countless leaks using plastic trash bags, nailing them into the roof so he could lay out his sleeping bag without getting soaked in rainwater. Audrey laughed as he described waking up several times to find a new leak had sprung, sometimes from the same place he’d already ‘fixed.’ Eventually he put his whole sleeping bag inside a trash bag and made himself a trash bag poncho and hood, then slept miserably until sunrise, when the rain had cleared and he eagerly went back into the house, stripped out of his damp clothes and climbed right into his safe, dry bed. He told her that the experience made him look at the plight of homeless people in a whole new way.  
  
The Great Northern parking lot was dark and deserted, with the only light coming from the hotel several yards away. It was even darker when Dale turned off the engine and the headlights.  
  
“It’s really coming down,” Dale observed, listening to the heavy raindrops pelting the windshield more noticeably now that the car was still and silent.  
  
A sudden, bright flash of lightning lit up the whole sky, and Dale and Audrey looked at each other with wide eyes. Dale broke out into a wide grin, then started counting under his breath: “ _One.......two.......three......four...._ ”  
  
A loud thunderclap rumbled a moment later, gaining in ferocity and volume before fading out in a low roar. “Less than a mile away!” Dale breathed, peering out at the storm through the watery windshield.  
  
“What do you mean?” Audrey asked.  
  
“If you count the seconds between a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, then divide by five, you’ll know how many miles away the lightning struck,” he explained.  
  
“Does that mean it could strike _us_?” Audrey worried.  
  
“Not likely... the chances of getting struck by lightning in a given year are about one in seven hundred thousand.”  
  
“What are those odds when lightning is striking less than a mile away, though?” Audrey asked.  
  
Dale smiled at her. “Good question... a lot higher, I would expect.”  
  
“Well is it getting closer? The storm?” Audrey wondered.  
  
“Hmm... I know how we might find out,” Dale replied. “If the delay between the next lightning strike and thunderclap is shorter, then the answer is yes.”  
  
Audrey nodded, then sat quietly with Dale in anticipation of the next flash of lightning. As the rain continued to pelt noisily on the hood of the car, Audrey admired what she could see of Dale in the dark. She loved being with him like this, and could happily sit out the rainstorm all night with him in that car. _It would be preferable if there wasn’t a center console between them, though_... Audrey recalled the backseat of the Bronco, and wished they were back there, now; stranded together in the rain, with the Sheriff and his deputy off in search of a phone, with nothing to do but wait and keep each other warm. Audrey never wanted to make out with anybody as fervently as she wanted to with Dale in that moment. She wondered whether she thought about it hard enough, the thought might transmit over to him and fill him with the same longing; _maybe he’d look at her and realize how much he wanted to kiss her, and he’d reach across the console and pull her onto his lap—take-out food be damned—and kiss her more deeply and ardently than he’d ever kissed anyone else before_...  
  
Dale’s eyes shifted from the windshield to Audrey, and for a suspenseful moment she thought he might have actually read her thoughts. Then a flash of lightning lit up both of their faces, and what Audrey read on Dale’s made her heart skip more than the lightning did.  
  
“ _One_......” he began, looking directly at her. She joined him in the rest of the count: “ _Two.......three.......f_ —”  
  
Before they could count to four, another thunderclap boomed nearby, even louder this time as it reverberated through their bodies. Dale smiled wildly at Audrey and half-whispered, “ _It’s closer_.”  
  
“Are we safe in here?” Audrey asked, nervous about being in a metal box. She was pretty sure that lightning was attracted to metal.  
  
“I’m sure we’re fine, but our food is probably cooling off,” Dale replied. “Pretty soon my stomach is going to be grumbling louder than that thunder.”  
  
“Okay, so we make a run for it?” Audrey asked, not too enthusiastic about having to dash through all that rain, let alone when a lightning storm was closing in on them.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll carry the food,” Dale offered, reaching across the console to take the bag from Audrey’s lap.  
  
In the next moment they were splashing across the flooding parking lot, Audrey shrieking as she tried and failed to skip across puddles without getting her shoes soaked. Dale was laughing behind her, squinting against the water falling into his eyes as he watched her buoyantly jaunt across the wet asphalt.  
  
They were both dripping wet when they burst into the lobby, full of laughter as the surprised desk manager looked on.  
  
“Miss Horne!” the woman exclaimed, “Randy was looking for you... nobody knew where you went; you were here, earlier, so we didn’t think you were sick or anything... Randy wasn’t very happy when we couldn’t find you...”  
  
Audrey rolled her eyes, about to tell the woman that she’d explain herself to Randy, later, when Dale stepped forward and said, “I’m sorry that nobody was informed, that was my oversight.” He put on his most charming smile as he reached out to shake the woman’s hand. “I’m Special Agent Dale Cooper, room three fifteen. Miss Horne was asked to come down to the Sheriff’s Station earlier to help Sheriff Truman and I with an ongoing investigation, and I’m afraid that our business ran longer than we expected.”  
  
“Oh...” the woman replied, glancing briefly at Audrey before looking back into the eyes of the handsome man. “I see.”  
  
“If anyone needs to speak with me about this, they're welcome to call my room, or to leave a message with Lucy at the Sheriff’s Station. I’d be happy to answer any questions. I do apologize for disrupting any hotel operations.”  
  
“Oh, well, I’m sure it’s not a problem,” the woman assured him. “I’ll pass that information along.”  
  
“Terrific,” Dale smiled, “you have a pleasant evening.”  
  
“Same to you, sir,” the woman smiled back.  
  
Dale turned back to Audrey with a playful grin and a lilt of his eyebrows, and she bit her lip stifling a laugh. When they were in the elevator and out of earshot, she hit his arm lightly with the back of her hand and said, “Why, Agent Cooper, I’m astonished! You _do_ break the rules sometimes...”  
  
“It wasn’t a lie, exactly,” he replied, looking down at her as she stood close beside him.  
  
“Well, I’m impressed. Even that jerk, Randy, can’t argue with that one! Next time I play hookie, I know who to call,” she beamed.  
  
“I thought we agreed that there weren’t going to be anymore junior-league investigations, Nancy Drew,” Dale quipped, though his eyes were serious.  
  
“Maybe not, but a girl still needs to have a little fun now and then,” Audrey replied.  
  
“So long as your idea of ‘fun’ doesn’t involve chasing after the leaders of international drug rings or any of their associates,” Dale said.  
  
“Nah,” Audrey smirked, “I’m only interested in chasing after the handsome Special Agent who’s going to bring them all to justice.”  
  
Dale’s expression shifted as he stared back at the young woman gazing up at him with adoring eyes; he felt his chest seize up with the familiar pleasure/panic sensation that he now associated exclusively with Audrey Horne, and this time the compulsion to tamp it down was less urgent. She looked so lovely, with wet tendrils of her dark hair all askew across her pretty face. _What kind of fool would he have to be to reject her?_  
  
The soft ‘ding’ of the elevator sounded, and Dale had some difficulty shifting his focus to the opening doors. “Let’s eat,” he said, smiling gently as he ushered Audrey out into the hallway.  
  
Dale let them into his room, glancing around for any stray clothing he might have neglected to tidy up before he left. While he set the takeout on the side table and sat down to remove his wet shoes, Audrey went into the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror. She was in a worse state than she thought she was: her hair was a mess, and her clothing was disheveled, wet and filthy.  
  
“Do you mind if I take a quick shower? I’m a mess,” Audrey said, already unbuttoning her sweater as she peeked out at Dale.  
  
Dale blinked, wanting to prevent any proximate nakedness but not knowing how to. “What about your waffles?” he weakly attempted.  
  
“They’ll still be good!” She assured him, adding “I’ll be right out,” before closing the door behind her.  
  
Dale sighed, listening to the shower head as it turned on and trying not to picture what would be happening beneath it. He distracted himself by digging a newspaper out of the trash bin and stuffing his wet shoes, then placed them beside the radiator to dry. Then he looked down at his own clothes, and decided that a dry set would be more than welcome. He must have taken more time than he realized selecting a fresh shirt and pair of sweatpants and peeling off his wet clothing, because by the time Audrey emerged from a steamy bathroom wrapped in one of the undersized white hotel towels, Dale still didn’t have a shirt on.  
  
“Oh, hi,” she said, trying not to stare. “My clothes are really gross; do you have something dry that I could put on?”  
  
Dale swallowed, blushing a little as he tried to put his fresh shirt on as casually as possible. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, his voice strained.  
  
Opening his drawer, Dale tried to select something appropriate before getting flustered by the task. “Here, go ahead,” he offered, gesturing to the drawer for Audrey to choose. When she moved toward him to look into the drawer, Dale was hit by the scent of his Head and Shoulders shampoo on her hair. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to ogle the shapely legs that were barely concealed by bottom edge of the small towel, or the cleavage that was spilling over the top.  
  
“What about this?” Audrey said, holding up Dale’s light blue and white-striped pajama shirt.  
  
“Yeah, go ahead,” Dale agreed, wanting her to get dressed as soon as possible.  
  
When Audrey came back out of the bathroom, her head was wrapped in a towel and she wasn’t wearing any pants. The shirt was long enough to cover part of her thighs, but only barely. She smiled at Dale as she approached the food on the table, taking her styrofoam box of waffles and a set of to-go cutlery and napkins over to the bed, where she folded her legs in front of and behind her as she made herself comfortable on top of the bedspread. Dale carried his foil pan of chicken parmesan over to join her, settling back against the headboard.  
  
“That smells good,” he told her, gazing enviously at her syrupy waffles. The whipped cream had mostly melted, but the creamy puddles in the golden waffle cups still looked delicious.  
  
“So does yours,” Audrey said, hungrily eyeing the stringy cheese as Dale wrapped some pasta around his fork.  
  
Dale looked between the two meals for a moment, then made what he considered a brilliant suggestion. “Would you want to split it?”  
  
“I never thought you’d ask,” Audrey laughed. “I thought I just wanted waffles until I smelled all that cheese and marinara sauce.”  
  
Dale smiled, happily taking Audrey’s styrofoam box and scooping a generous portion of his meal into the open lid. Then he started to take the top waffle before Audrey stopped him, saying she wanted the messier one, so he scooped some of the topping onto the drier waffle and settled it in his pan. “How’s that?” he asked.  
  
“Good,” she smiled, satisfied with the trade.  
  
They ate together amicably while the storm continued to rage outside, their conversation occasionally interrupted by another roll of thunder. Some time after they’d finished their food, Dale moved their empty containers to the trash bin before settling back in bed beside Audrey, who was now reclined against the pillows in satiety, her still-damp hair now unfurled in tousled waves. She drowsily recounted the story of the time she destroyed half of the kitchen trying to make her father breakfast in bed on the morning of his thirty-sixth birthday while Dale listened intently, feeling more tired than usual after the poor sleep he’d had the night before. When he’d asked Audrey whether she should be home by now, her eyes were half-closed as she dismissed the concern, saying that her father was likely still in his office while her mother would be too pre-occupied with Johnny to notice whether Audrey was in her room or not, yet. “And anyways, I’m an adult, now,” she yawned. “Which means I can stay out as late as I want.”  
  
“Even adults have people to answer to,” Dale contradicted, eliciting only a vague sound from Audrey as she adjusted the pillows underneath her. She looked so comfortable that he was reluctant to disturb her, though he knew she should be back in the Horne residence on the other side of the hotel by now.  
  
“I’m going to brush my teeth,” Dale said, putting off the issue for the moment. When he returned from the bathroom, he was unsurprised to find Audrey fast asleep.  
  
“Audrey,” he said softly, sitting at the edge of the bed beside her and touching her shoulder. He tried again, but received no response. Her face looked peaceful as she slept, and he regarded it fondly for a long moment before he sighed with resignation, tugging the comforter out from beneath her and rousing her slightly before she readjusted herself and fell right back asleep. He covered her with the blanket and turned off the bedside lamp, then stood at the window to look out at the storm while he thought about what he should do, next. Glancing back at the bed, he decided there was room enough for both of them; he was too tired to contemplate any other option. He changed into his dark blue set of pajamas and turned off the last light before climbing in bed beside the sleeping girl, only distracted for twenty minutes or so by her proximity and the instinctive urge to reach for her before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

  
  
That night, Dale had the dream again.  
  
It was the same man he’d dreamt about when he was a child; the same petrifying presence stalking him again, trying to break into his room, scratching and pounding outside his bedroom door before roaring like a frustrated animal. At first the dream started like all the others he’d had before: in his childhood bedroom, with Dale hearing the man as he lay in his old brass-framed twin bed. This time, though, as Dale sat up to watch the shadows shifting in the gap beneath the door, the room transformed into one nearly identical to his hotel room at the Great Northern, except that he was still in his old brass bed and the room’s proportions were much larger than they should be. Everything else was the same: the man tried to coax Dale into opening the door with playful knocks, then pounded harder and harder when Dale refused to budge. When the man finally erupted in that terrible, inhuman roar, Dale was startled into wakefulness.  
  
It was a recurring dream that he’d first experienced in December of 1968, throughout an illness that had plagued him for weeks. When he’d told his mother about it, she didn’t try to comfort him in the way parents usually reduce their children’s nightmares to “just a dream,” offering dismissive reassurances; instead, she told her son that she was aware of the man he’d been dreaming of, and—to Dale’s alarm—she warned him not to ever let the man in. When he’d asked her what it meant, she took another dollop of VapoRub on her fingers and rubbed it into her son’s chest, telling him “we can see things in our dreams that we can’t see when we’re awake.” His mother had experienced the dream again nearly a year later, and had feverishly told her bewildered son that the man almost got in the door that time. She had died shortly afterward of a brain aneurysm.  
  
Though he hadn’t dreamt of the man in many years, the dread that he’d always associated with his presence came back stronger than ever that night. As Dale took deep breaths and struggled to steady his racing heart, he tried to convince himself that this was just a product of the storm outside; that the roaring thunder had triggered old memories of the bogeyman’s roaring; that witnessing Audrey’s fear of the lightning had somehow stirred up an old fear of his own. Despite this logic, Dale couldn’t seem to shake the sense that the old nightmare was still as ominously significant as it had been when he was just a boy.  
  
Audrey stirred beside him, humming something unintelligible in her sleep. Dale couldn’t see her in the near-total darkness, but knowing she was there put him strangely at ease. He would have expected the opposite, waking up next to someone who really ought not to be in a dark bedroom alone with him so late at night; he could just imagine what people might have to say about it if they found out. Gordon. Roger. Denise. Harry. Albert. Diane. Ben Horne.  
  
_Well, none of them were here, now_... for the time being, Dale was content to settle back into a comfortable position and just enjoy the fleeting but deep satisfaction of laying down to sleep beside a beautiful young woman who he had genuine affection for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took much longer than anticipated... there was a fair amount of research involved; I now know a lot more about the interiors of '87 Ford Broncos and Pontiac Firebird Trans Ams than I ever thought I'd need to. You may recognize numerous references culled from _The Autobiography of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper: My Life, My Tapes_ , and some from _The Secret History of Twin Peaks_. Some of the backstory was also modified or entirely made up, but that's what makes fanfiction so much fun!
> 
> Please note that I've changed the rating of this story from Mature to Explicit, now: I don't want to spoil anything, but at some point there will be sexual shenanigans. Be advised! ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Published 9-26-17
> 
> So, this took a while... sorry for the delay! Normally I'm able to write during my downtime at work, but that hasn't been the case during the last few [BUSY] weeks. And the season 3 finale really did a number on me, too... (I mean, I actually loved everything, but processing all of it—and formulating a working theory RE: what the heck happened—took a lot out of me).  
> I'm back, though, with a relatively short chapter but more on the way! Work is still busy and I might be slower to crank out new chapters over the next month or so, but rest assured that I'm devoting whatever spare time life affords me to get this story out there :)
> 
> On the plus side, the direction that TP: The Return took means that the AU I'd plotted out months ago will actually be perfectly compatible with canon! This is extremely pleasing to me!! (no spoilers!)

* * *

  
Denise checked her face in the mirror, flattered by the soft lighting of her hotel bathroom. She counted it as another point in the Great Northern’s favor. _No gaudy fluorescents, here..._  
  
After another sound sleep in a surprisingly comfortable bed, Denise was ready to get to work. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but she had a big day ahead of her: first, she needed to get over to the FBI field office in Seattle to make use of their database and have the cocaine samples analyzed by their lab techs. Recalling her last visit to the somewhat sterile office building, Denise thought she should pick up a box of freshly-made doughnuts along the way... _to brighten the place up a bit._ Once back in Twin Peaks, she would meet with Dale to discuss the results and come up with a plan. Dressed in her best let’s–get–down–to–business blazer, she had high confidence in her ability to accomplish everything she set out to do and still have time to enjoy a cocktail at that quaint little hotel bar later that evening.  
  
Grabbing her purse and briefcase, Denise flipped off the light switch and walked out into the empty hallway. The third floor was quiet that morning, unlike what Denise had experienced in that hallway the morning prior. As soon as she learned what had happened to Mr. Milford, Denise had quickly gotten away from the hotel to enjoy a peaceful breakfast at the local diner, intent on avoiding any unnecessary drama. She’d come to find that life became a lot easier when she distanced herself from other people’s drama.  
  
_Speaking of which..._  
  
Denise’s steps slowed when she saw a door open down the hallway ahead of her and a familiar young woman appeared, looking like she was sneaking out of someone’s hotel room. She was barefoot and wearing what seemed to be a man’s pajama shirt that barely concealed the top few inches of her thighs, and in her arms was a bundle of clothing with a pair of shoes dangling from her fingers. After quietly closing the door behind her, Audrey looked up and realized that she had an audience.  
  
Recognizing each other, the two women shared a brief moment of awkwardness before Audrey offered a strained smile and shrugged, then turned to patter off toward the service elevator. Denise stood there a moment and watched her go before slowly resuming her walk toward the main elevator, pausing briefly outside the door that she now recognized as that belonging to Dale Cooper’s room. Denise shook her head, thinking _oh, Coop... what have you gotten yourself into, this time?_ She knew that the man had a history of being unlucky in love, and she couldn’t see how this inadvisable romance would end any differently. _Never mind how it could affect his misfeasance case..._  
  
Setting off toward the elevator with a slightly heavier gait, Denise started to think about how she would broach the subject when she met with Dale, later. She felt that she would need to say something—as both a friend and a colleague—having witnessed what she just did. She let out a heavy sigh as the elevator doors closed. _Other people’s drama was sometimes unavoidable._

* * *

  
  
It was chilly in the service elevator that morning, and Audrey quickly slipped into her still-damp shoes just to get her feet off the cold linoleum. She prayed that there wouldn’t be anymore awkward encounters in her path as she made her way down to the Horne residence. As exciting as the idea of being seen leaving the room of her would-be Special Agent lover in the early hours was to her, the otherwise appealing scandal of it was significantly dulled by fact that nothing truly scandalous had actually transpired between them.  
  
After the doors opened and Audrey made it past the front desk and into the thankfully empty first floor hallway without running into anybody, she started to feel the regret of having snuck away from Dale’s room that she knew was coming. She had never been so close to her heart’s desire as she’d been only minutes earlier, and if she’d wanted to, she thought that she might have been able to make something happen in his bed that morning... but then—as she’d lain there in the soft pre-dawn light, listening to his steady breathing and staring at his shadowed figure beside her as he slept in that funny way with his arm bent over his eyes—she had experienced a surprising number of doubts and anxieties. _What if their first time together was also their last?_  
  
Knowing how Dale felt about the prospect of pursuing a romantic relationship with her, Audrey feared that by exploiting an easy opportunity to get intimate with him, she might be condemning the experience to a regrettable one-off that was sure to end with him distancing himself from her forever. _And if she **did** only get one chance to be with him, did she really want to waste it fumbling around in the near-dark with him, groggy and disheveled, without even being able to brush her teeth beforehand?_ Audrey knew that she would always remember her first time, and she didn’t want to remember it happening with bed hair that hadn’t even been set properly after shampooing. As exciting as it was to wake up beside him, Audrey had felt too much pressure to leave that morning to press her luck. _She just hoped that she hadn’t blown it..._  
  
Audrey was startled as the door to her father’s office opened behind her. She was about to scurry off before she heard her father’s voice call out to her.  
  
“Audrey? Is that you?” Ben asked, leaning out into the hallway and squinting with bleary eyes at the young woman turned away from him.  
  
Audrey froze, turning slightly without meeting her father’s eyes. “Yes, daddy,” she meekly replied. She silently cursed herself for not changing into her damp clothing in the break room when she had the chance.  
  
“Do me a favor, would you,” Ben asked, oblivious to her state of undress, “...if you see that slacker, Harvey, anywhere, let him know that I’m getting impatient. He was supposed to drop off more plaster for my understructure this morning, and it’s already getting dark out!”  
  
“...Daddy, the sun hasn’t even come up, yet,” Audrey told him, fully facing him now with concern. “It _is_ the morning; you’re just up too early...”  
  
“It is?” Ben asked, looking doubtful, “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah,” Audrey replied, getting more worried, “I’m sure. Have you been up all night?”  
  
“That’s not important,” Ben said, dismissively waving off her concern. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead. What _really matters_ is getting the Sailor’s Creek terrain mapped out before Lee’s troops abandon the Petersburg trenches...”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Audrey asked as Ben retreated into his office with an absent expression. She cautiously approached the doorway and peered into the office, only to find that the situation was far worse than she realized. “Oh, daddy,” Audrey breathed, surveying the mess of unfinished miniature battlefield scenes that her father had been building on the floor of his thoroughly trashed office. Empty plaster bags and model-building supplies littered the edges of the room, and a confederate flag hung over her father’s desk. The air smelled stale, like cold coffee and old cigar smoke mingled with the muskiness of an unwashed man.  
  
“Daddy, when was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” Audrey prompted, looking at her father’s drawn, unshaven face. “Why don’t you come back to the house with me and I’ll fix you something? You could take a shower, get cleaned up? How does that sound?”  
  
“No, no,” Ben mumbled, waving her off again as he adjusted the position of a miniature soldier, “I’ll have something brought to my office later. I’m not hungry. There’s too much work to do.”  
  
“But, daddy—” Audrey started to protest, only to have her father cut her off.  
  
“Listen, Audrey: if you’re not going to help me track down Harvey, I need you to leave,” Ben told her, pointing at her feet before complaining, “You’re standing directly over the future site of Appomattox Station.”  
  
Audrey glanced down, then slowly raised her eyes to regard her father critically. She’d never seen him this far gone before. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. “Fine,” she said, eying him suspiciously, “I’ll leave you to it.”  
  
As her father impatiently waved her off, Audrey crept out of the crowded office, careful not to step on any tiny soldiers. She knew that her father needed a reality check, but her most immediate priority was getting back to her bedroom and putting some actual clothes on. She had no idea how she was going to help him, but she did know that she wasn’t going to get anywhere until she at least got her hairdo under control.

* * *

  
  
Dale woke at the break of dawn, unable to ignore the small amount of light filtering through the shirtsleeve covering his eyes. He sensed that he was alone even before he turned his head to look at the empty bed beside him. The only proof that she had been there at all was the indentation on the spare pillow and the way that the comforter was still folded back where she’d climbed out from under it. Dale reached across to run his hand idly over the place where she’d slept, feeling for any residual warmth, but found the blankets cool to the touch. She was long gone.  
  
As he stared up at the wooden beams above him, Dale tried to sort out the feeling that was slowly overtaking him. He wanted to convince himself that it wasn’t disappointment, but he feared that it was. It would make more sense to be relieved that she’d left. But, when he tried to force a sense of relief, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering why she hadn’t stayed. He would have expected her to still be there, delighting in the opportunity to share a bed with him. He would have expected her to try to seduce him again, taking advantage of his lack of alertness. _It probably wouldn’t have been very difficult at all for her to sneak a kiss out of the situation... if she’d gotten him early enough, before his mind had a chance to catch up, he might have even been inclined to reciprocate..._  
  
With a shaky breath, Dale tried to rouse himself from his wayward train of thought. It was too easy, now, to imagine what it would be like to kiss Audrey, now that he’d already felt the touch of her lips against his. He was able to momentarily distract himself by focusing on the sound of the birds singing in the trees beneath his window, but before long his mind wandered back to the suspended fantasy of making out with Audrey Horne.

He recalled the way she’d looked when he’d found her in his bed that night shortly after he’d arrived in Twin Peaks, and used the memory to reconstruct the scene: _this time it would be early morning, and he would already be in bed beside her. He’d open his eyes to find her gazing down at him with that insistent longing he knew too well, and when she’d lower her face experimentally, testing him—her hair falling forward and tickling his cheek—he would surprise her by meeting her in a kiss, pulling her gently down on top of him as he explored her lush, perfect mouth with his own._ As Dale pictured the way Audrey would look as he kissed her—imagined the way she would feel against his lips as he took the lead, with her breasts pressed into his chest as he held her close; the way his hands would move over her body, and the sounds she’d make as he touched her like she’d never been touched before—he suddenly became aware of how hard he’d gotten.  
  
Groaning, Dale adjusted his full cock in his pajama pants and shifted his position to encourage his blood to flow back into his legs. Now he was grateful that Audrey had left when she did; if it was this easy for him to get carried away when she wasn’t even around to encourage him, he was afraid of what might have happened if she’d actually stayed with him that morning. Unbidden, his treacherous imagination provided one particularly vivid scenario involving Audrey’s perfect mouth. Feeling his cock react favorably to the idea, Dale figured a cold shower would be in order...

* * *

  
  
“Well, well, well... look who deigned to show up to work today,” Randy condescended as Audrey stepped up to his desk in her dark green, kitten-heeled slingbacks, looking like she just stepped from a page of a McCall’s patterns catalogue. Her chic blazer looked perfectly tailored—with its cropped hem accentuating the full hips that she’d squeezed into a matching pencil skirt—and she’d left it unbuttoned, showing off a flirty peek of the black silk camisole she wore underneath. Her hair was perfect. Randy hated her.  
  
“Or are you here to tell me you’re going out again?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow at her outfit. She didn’t look like she intended to run around the hotel all day.  
  
“No, I’m ready to work,” Audrey countered, pretending not to know what Randy was implying. She had tried to choose an outfit that was passably professional, but still sexy enough to catch Dale’s attention.  
  
“Is that so? Hmm... the breeze must be blowing in a different direction today,” Randy murmured.  
  
“Didn’t Leslie tell you what happened? I had to leave on short notice to help with a police investigation,” Audrey replied, over-stressing the importance of her excuse.  
  
“Oh, you mean you had to help that young, good-looking F.B.I. agent from room 315?” Randy sassed back, not buying it. “Yes, I heard. Leslie told me all about how the two of you showed up last night with take-out.”  
  
“Leslie should mind her own business,” Audrey said in a flat tone, annoyed.  
  
“It’s your _father’s_ business that you should be concerned with,” Randy snapped. “Breezing in whenever you feel like it is no way to run a hotel. And that _is_ what you’re aiming for, isn’t it?”  
  
Audrey rolled her eyes, tired of Randy’s paranoia. “Jeeze, Randy, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m not trying to steal your job? I’m just learning the business so that I can help my father! Why is that so hard for you to understand?”  
  
“Oh, I understand... I understand perfectly,” Randy shot back, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Audrey stared back at the acerbic man, at a loss. It seemed he was determined to dislike her, and she didn’t have the energy to care.  
  
“Do you have something for me to do or what?” she asked.  
  
Randy shot her a look before he glanced down at a notepad. “A couple that we placed on the third floor wanted to change rooms after what happened to Mr. Milford. They were complaining about ‘ghost noises,’ but what they described sounded like owl hoots to me. You can arrange to have them put on the south side of the second floor, near the waterfall. That should drown out anymore owl sounds.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Randy made a note of the couple’s name and room number and handed it to Audrey before continuing, “Several guests from Mr. Milford’s wedding need to make arrangements to extend their stays, for his funeral. See if you can find out if that’s been scheduled, yet. Make sure that these guests feel comfortable here; we don’t want them downgrading to the Timber Falls Motel just to save a few bucks. Remind them about our unique services and offer them a complimentary glass of wine at the bar—here’s some drink vouchers,” Randy said, handing Audrey a small stack of coupons, “And here’s a list of names,” he continued, jotting down some names and room numbers that he copied off his notebook.  
  
Audrey took the list from her supervisor, trying not to look as unenthusiastic about the task as she felt.  
  
“Remember to smile,” Randy murmured, dismissing her as he returned to the papers on his desk.  
  
Audrey shot him a sarcastic smile that went unseen before she strutted away from him, wishing she didn’t have to answer to such an unpleasant man in order to do her job. She wouldn’t mind being her own boss, but it was too early to suggest such a thing to her father — especially considering the disturbing fact that all he seemed concerned with, now, was reenacting the Civil War in miniature on his office floor.  
  
As she looked over the list Randy had given her, Audrey decided it was still a little early to start calling guests. Instead, she went to pull out a directory from behind the front desk and set about trying to learn whether or not a date had been set for Mr. Milford’s funeral. She figured that the local mortuary was a good place to start.

* * *

  
  
Dale was headed to the dining room for breakfast when he heard Audrey’s voice coming from the front desk area. He slowed down, feeling that he ought to at least say hello to her as he passed through but also feeling embarrassed to face her after the experience he’d had in bed that morning. Though he wanted to hurry past her to avoid any awkwardness, he knew that he would have to talk to her again eventually. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked somewhat stiffly over to the front desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets and smiling tensely as he approached her.  
  
Audrey glanced up as she held the receiver to her ear, her serious face transforming into a smile as she realized who had just walked into her line of sight. Dale was looking at her in a funny way, and the awkward body language he was displaying just made him more endearing to her. She saw the moment when he noticed her well-calculated appearance and recognized the the effect that it had on him. Leaning her hip against the desk, Audrey oriented her body in a flirtatious pose as she continued her conversation with the undertaker, glancing up at Dale again and again as he stood by and waited to speak with her.  
  
“Okay... well, do you know who I could contact that might be able to tell me when the body will be ready for burial?”  
  
Dale’s eyebrows rose as he listened, wondering what he was overhearing.  
  
“The morgue?” Audrey asked, “Where’s that? ... _Calhoun Memorial Hospital_. ...Oh. Okay...”  
  
Audrey smirked as Dale looked at her curiously. She loved when she had his attention.  
  
“I’ll try that, then. Thank you,” Audrey finished, pushing herself away from the desk as she prepared to hang up the receiver. “Goodbye.”  
  
“What was that all about?” Dale asked as she hung up the line.  
  
Audrey took a breath to reorient herself, smiling her brilliant, trademark smile at Dale as she exhaled. “Hi,” she greeted him, her eyes sparkling.  
  
Dale smiled back at her warmly. “Good morning, Audrey.”  
  
She laughed shyly at that before she addressed his question. “Um, that was the Meadow Lark Funeral Home... I’m trying to find out when Mr. Milford’s funeral is going to be so that I can help guests with their extended stay arrangements.”  
  
“No luck, huh?” Dale asked.  
  
“Well, the undertaker said that they didn’t receive his body yet because they were waiting on a ‘death certificate clearance’ or something...”  
  
“Ah. I think I know what’s causing the holdup,” Dale nodded. “Some of the family members were suggesting foul play, so Doctor Hayward was obliged to perform an autopsy in order to put those concerns to rest. I’m sure it will all be sorted out soon; I can put in a call if you’d like...”  
  
“You could?” Audrey smiled, “That would be great! I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell the guests in the meantime.”  
  
“Can I use your phone?” Dale asked, moving around to meet Audrey behind the desk.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” she smiled, backing away from the phone to make room for him (but not too much room).  
  
Dale suppressed a smirk as he realized she wasn’t going to give him much space. He was standing close enough for her to hear the dial tone as he picked up the receiver and dialed the sheriff’s station.  
  
“Twin Peaks Sheriff’s station, this is Lucy speaking; how can I direct your call?”  
  
“Good morning, Lucy,” Dale greeted, “Cooper here. I was hoping you could check something for me.”  
  
“Oh! Agent Cooper!” Lucy gasped, “I was just going to call you! How did you know?”  
  
“How did I know what, Lucy?” Dale asked.  
  
“That Major Briggs came back!” Lucy replied, “He’s on his way to the sheriff’s station right now; Sheriff Truman wanted me to ask you to come over.”  
  
“Oh wow, that’s great news!” Dale beamed, “Tell Harry that I’m on my way. But first: could you tell me if Doc Hayward submitted his autopsy results on Douglas Milford, yet?”  
  
“Umm, hold on one moment, please, and I’ll check,” Lucy offered.  
  
“Thanks, Lucy.”  
  
As he waited to hear back from the secretary, Dale glanced down at Audrey, who was looking at him the way a cat might look look at a cornered insect, unable to decide whether to eat it or swat it around some more. Seeing her so close reminded him of the fantasy he’d aborted with some difficulty that morning, and he couldn’t suppress the thoughts that started to work their way back into his mind. He tried to dance around them with forced distractions, first focusing on the press of his shoes on the floor as he shifted his weight, trying to ground himself in the present; when that failed him, he tried to identify what the kitchen was cooking by the smells wafting over from the dining room. He couldn’t ignore Audrey for long, though, given the way she was looking at him, and when their eyes locked, he felt his blood flowing to his groin despite his best efforts to avoid it. Lucy came back on the line just in time.  
  
“Hello, are you still there, Agent Cooper?”  
  
“I’m here Lucy,” Dale replied, his voice sounding a little bit urgent.  
  
“I have the information you requested,” she slowly explained. “Doctor Hayward did submit his autopsy report, and the cause of death was determined to be heart failure. There were no signs of any toxic substances in his system.”  
  
“Great. Please do me a favor and fax that report over to the Meadow Lark Funeral Home so the death certificate can be registered,” Dale asked.  
  
“That’s the _Meadow Lark Funeral Home_...” Lucy repeated, apparently writing it down. “Okay, I’ll prepare a fax for them,” Lucy said.  
  
“Thank you, Lucy,” Dale replied, “I’ll see you soon. Save me a jelly doughnut.”  
  
“Okay, I will,” Lucy promised. “See you soon, Agent Cooper.”  
  
“Bye bye now,” Dale said before hanging up the phone. He smiled at Audrey, resting one hand on his hip as he told her, “It shouldn’t be long now before the funeral home contacts the family to make the arrangements. I would expect a date to be set by this evening, maybe late afternoon.”  
  
“You’re the best,” Audrey smirked, then leaned in suddenly to press a quick kiss on Dale’s cheek. Her hands were still on his shoulders as she lowered herself back on the ground to ask him, “Will I see you later?”  
  
Dale gulped as he stared back at her, somewhat stunned. “I don’t know, Audrey... what do you have in mind?”  
  
Her smirk make his chest feel tight. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.  
  
“Well... I thought maybe if you were going to be around later, we could talk?” she tried, smoothing out the edge of Dale’s shirt collar.  
  
“What do you want to talk about?” Dale asked, his voice going lower. He reached up and gently pulled Audrey’s hands down, wanting her to stop touching him.  
  
As Dale released Audrey’s hands, she flashed a brief pout before she changed tactics. “It’s my father. I’m worried about him.”  
  
“You already told me about that,” Dale replied.  
  
“No, it’s worse: I found him in his office early this morning, and... well, it’s kind of a long story... but I’ve never seen him like this before. I don’t know what to do... I could really use some advice.”  
  
Dale was slightly skeptical, but Audrey’s concern looked genuine enough. “All right, maybe later this evening. I don’t know how long I’ll be out today.”  
  
“Was there a break in the case or something?” Audrey asked, gesturing toward the telephone.  
  
“No, that was some other good news: Major Briggs is back.”  
  
“Bobby’s dad? Back from where?”  
  
“That’s what I want to find out; he went missing a couple days ago.”  
  
“He did?” Audrey asked, “I didn’t know that... Bobby never mentioned anything.”  
  
“Well, it seems that this sort of thing is a regular occurrence in the Briggs household, but there was nothing ‘regular’ about it to me. Anyhow, I’ve got to get going,” Dale said, stepping away from Audrey as he belatedly realized that they were still standing too close to one another. “Sheriff Truman is expecting me.”  
  
“Okay,” Audrey said, sad to see him go but content to bide her time until later. “I’ll see you tonight.”  
  
“Uh huh. Bye,” Dale said as he retreated towards his car, feeling like he’d somehow managed to get caught in a trap.  
  
Audrey was sorry to see him go, but was very much looking forward to seeing him later that evening. Dale hadn’t been gone for a full minute before she was already planning what to wear: _something sexy, but comfortable enough to relax in... something that he’d like to touch... something that could be removed without too much effort... and then, underneath..._  
  
After mentally running through an inventory of her underwear drawer, Audrey decided that she needed something special for the occasion. Even if they never made it that far together, after that morning she didn’t want to risk being caught in anything boring. _Just because it was her first time didn’t mean that she had to act like an amateur_... She started calculating how much time she would have to get down to the department store and back after her shift ended, factoring in the time it would take to freshen up and rehearse a seduction strategy. The thought of being seen buying lingerie in her father’s department store was simultaneously thrilling and nerve-wracking, but she knew that ‘Special Agent Dale Cooper’ was worth it.

* * *

  
  
The Major had the look of someone who’d just experienced something that was beyond ordinary explanation. The more he tried to articulate his experience, the more disjointed his story became. Dale found it disturbing that the Major seemed so affected by whatever had transpired, since he’d judged the man as someone who was accustomed to maintaining poise and clear-headedness in every challenging situation he encountered. This was a man who was not easily spooked, and yet something had clearly spooked him.  
  
Dale watched as the Major ran his fingers curiously over the mark on his neck after Doc Hayward finished photographing it. The Major was mumbling something incoherent about keeping secrets and the corruption of Time by malevolent forces.  
  
“Perhaps there are sources of information that transcend the human need to conspire...” The Major continued in a distracted way, “Information of such weight that it pertains not to the...”  
  
As the Major trailed off, he started to become visibly distraught. Dale got the impression that he was struggling to contain an emotional outburst, and started to worry about his friend.  
  
“My God...” the Major breathed, his eyes starting to tear up, “Is this meant for the soul? My soul?”  
  
“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Dale tried, placing a gentle hand on the Major’s shoulder. Dale’s eyes were steady as the Major looked up at him, grounding and reassuring, and the other man nodded in gratitude and understanding.  
  
After a pause to recollect himself, the Major asked, “Are you familiar with Project Blue Book?”  
  
“Yes sir, I am,” Dale confirmed. “The Air Force investigation into the phenomena of unidentified flying objects.”  
  
Major Briggs nodded as he continued, “Officially, it disbanded in 1969; but there are those of us who continue in an unofficial capacity, examining the heavens as before. And, in the case of Twin Peaks, the Earth below... We are searching for a place called ‘The White Lodge’.”  
  
Before Dale could react to this surprising piece of information, the conference room door opened and two MPs walked into the room. Major Briggs barely reacted, seeming to sense the men’s arrival before they’d even walked through the door.  
  
“Major Briggs,” one of the MPs intoned.  
  
“I’ve been expecting you,” the Major sighed.  
  
When Harry tried to intervene, the Major expressed appreciation for the effort but seemed obligated to leave.  
  
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this discussion at a later date,” the Major said as he prepared to follow the MPs out of the building.  
  
“Are you sure you want to go with them?” Harry tried again, unhappy to see his old friend taken away by a military escort so soon after being reunited with him.  
  
“I’m sure, Harry.” After saying his goodbyes, the Major turned to leave. He paused in the doorway for a moment, looking like he’d just recalled something. When he turned toward Dale, his expression was full of wonder.  
  
“I’d nearly forgotten...” The Major mused, lost in his thoughts.  
  
“What is it, Major?” Dale asked, his brow furrowed as he stood by expectantly.  
  
The Major held up a finger, shaking it as he reconstructed the hazy memory. “Agent Cooper... as remarkable as this may sound... I believe that I’m supposed to deliver another message to you...”  
  
Dale, Harry and Will exchanged a surprised look before they all waited for the Major to reveal his message. After another moment, the Major looked up and met Dale’s eyes with a startlingly lucid expression as he recited the words he was meant to convey:  
  
_“Don’t let him in.”_  
  
Everyone looked at Dale, then, whose face seemed to go a bit pale as he processed the Major’s message.  
  
“Does that mean anything to you?” The Major quietly asked.  
  
Dale swallowed before he answered, “Perhaps,” nodding solemnly. The Major nodded in return, satisfied that the obscure message had been delivered accurately.  
  
After the Major was escorted out of the room, Harry and Will looked to Dale with curiosity.  
  
“What did he mean by that?” Will asked. “Who aren’t you supposed to ‘let in’? Let in to where?”  
  
Dale shook his head in disbelief, staring at the ground. “I’m not sure, but I think he might be referring to an old dream of mine. Well, a nightmare, really...”  
  
“A dream?” Harry asked, knowing that he shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but still struggling to follow this kind of reasoning.  
  
“One I used to have when I was just a kid,” Dale elaborated. “About a man trying to break in to my room. My mother used to tell me that she knew about the man, and warned me that I should never let him in. The reason that I think that the Major’s message refers to this is because I had the dream again last night, for the first time since I was a boy.”  
  
Will and Harry exchanged a look, not sure what to make of this information.  
  
“How did Garland know about it?” Harry wondered aloud.  
  
“Harry, I couldn’t tell you,” Dale sighed, shaking his head as he stood in contemplation with his hands on his hips.  
  
“Fellas,” Will sighed, “this is all a bit above my pay grade. I’ll leave the psychic dream interpretation to the professionals; I’ve got patients to see.”  
  
“Thanks for coming by, Doc,” Harry said, taking the camera as Will held it out.  
  
“Any time, Harry. See you, Agent Cooper: good luck with that one.”  
  
“See you, Doc,” Dale smiled.  
  
When Dale and Harry were alone, Harry moved to stand in front of the other man and faced him with a serious expression.  
  
“Coop... I’m not sure what any of this is supposed to mean, but if you need anything, you know that all you have to do is ask.”  
  
“Thanks, Harry,” Dale replied. “But I’m just as confused about all this as you are, believe me. Why don’t we stick with what we can handle for the moment; one thing at a time. Tell me where we are with the Renault investigation.”  
  
“Right,” Harry agreed. “We got the photos developed, and I think you’ll be happy to hear that we got another break: I recognized the other man from the meeting.”  
  
“Oh?” Dale asked, looking hopeful.  
  
“Sergeant King,” Harry said, saying the name as if it was distasteful to him. “The same Mountie who was questioning your conduct after Audrey’s rescue.”  
  
“No kidding?” Dale breathed, shaking his head.  
  
“Nope. It’s a verified conspiracy, Coop. And now we’ve got the photos to back it up.”  
  
“That’s great, Harry,” Dale replied. “This will certainly go a long way toward clearing my name.”  
  
“You bet,” Harry agreed, clapping Dale on the shoulder.  
  
“What about the fifth man? Did we get any photos of him?”  
  
“I’m afraid those didn’t turn out as good,” Harry answered. “All we could make out was a shadowed figure.”  
  
“Hmm. Maybe the F.B.I. office in Seattle could take a crack at the negatives,” Dale suggested. “I’ll ask Denise to send them over there, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course not, they’re all yours,” Harry agreed. “I’ll go get them. Lucy left a copy of the prints on my desk for you.”  
  
“Thanks, Harry.”  
  
“Hey, chin up, huh?” Harry encouraged, “We’re gonna get ‘em. We’re ahead, now.”  
  
“Right,” Dale smiled, though something still seemed to be troubling him. Harry gave him another reassuring pat on the back as he left the conference room, leaving Dale to mull over the Major’s parting message.  
  
He knew it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d had the dream again that night. It must be related. What he didn’t know—what he was suddenly finding himself thinking about again, just as he had when he was a boy—was the identity of the unseen bogeyman who his mother was somehow familiar with, and who Major Briggs was now mysteriously compelled to warn him about. _What was it that Dale didn’t know, but that both his mother and the Major seemed to have secret knowledge of? What was he even afraid of? A nameless man without a face?_  
  
Whoever ‘he’ was, Dale expected that he’d be encountering the shadowy entity again. _Maybe as soon as tonight._ The thought made him anxious about falling asleep. _What if his curiosity about the man compelled him to try to learn his identity? Would he be able to stop himself?_ It was one thing knowing what not to do in the waking world, but another thing entirely trying to control one’s impulses in the dream world. Dale hoped that he’d have the presence of mind to understand the risk and act appropriately, but didn’t know how strong he would be in the REM state. _Perhaps if he focused his intentions as he’d once learned to do when he practiced at lucid dreaming, he could prevent himself from losing touch with reality..._  
  
Dale recalled the importance of maintaining ‘reality checks’ before dreaming, to be able to recognize the difference between the dream world and the waking world. He glanced at the clock on the wall and found it displaying the time as half past ten. He looked away, focusing on his hands. _They seemed normal; all ten fingers accounted for, no distortions_... Looking back at the clock, he was satisfied to find that the minute hand hadn’t strayed. For good measure, he pinched his nose and held his breath: after several beats, his lungs started burning and the need to breathe became urgent. He exhaled with a contented gasp, convinced that he was, indeed, awake.  
  
Dale was determined to master his awareness. He believed that if he could train himself to regularly check whether or not he was dreaming, he might be able to take control of the nightmare that was resurfacing. By reiterating his intention before sleeping, he hoped that the message would permeate his consciousness deeply enough to be recalled when he needed it. One way or the other, it seemed very important that he managed to keep the unknown man on the other side of that door.  
  
_Don’t let him in._  
  
_Don’t let him in._  
  
_Don’t let him in._


End file.
